"You have reached your final destination," said the sat-nav, with a triumphant air of "fuck you" after we had spent much of the drive down ignoring its advice. And by "final destination", it is clearly more like the film series of the same name, rather than the end of our actual journey."No. No, it can't be," said Jane, "Let's drive a bit further until we find the proper hotel."
So, we drove a bit further, then a lot further, and then we drove back because it really was the right place. I know one should never get one's hopes up when the word (cough) "Travelhovel" is involved in any trip away from home, for they have reached the very bottom end of the scale for budget hotels, and kept digging. To borrow the words of poor, dead Alec Guinness in his least favourite role: "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy than the Whitstable Travelhovel". And I should know, because I've stayed at the one in Swindon (and in my defence, both were booked by other people).
Petrol station, Little Chef, run-down hotel in the middle of a sea of litter-strewn tarmac, built far too close to the thundering A2 trunk road.
Inside: flaking paint; a bed with legs falling off from the energetic nocturnal sports of earlier customers; holes in the duvet cover; a kettle with exactly two teabags, two coffee sachets and two tiny pots of not-milk; and a TV that was cutting-edge cathode ray technology back in the early nineties. Even the single chair in the room is so filthy I think twice about hanging my jacket over the back. And I tweet:
Dear Travelhovel, I have screwed the legs back on the bed in room 27 because you couldn't be arsed. Your pal, etcFurther adventures turn up cigarette burns in the black-out curtains for that authentic "starry sky" experience when closed; the toilet roll holder held to the wall by God-knows-what and the paper NOT folded into a point. It takes dedicated complacency to keep standards so low across so many hovels.
Dear Travelhovel. Me again. I haven't got the tools to sort out the broken toilet roll holder in room 27. You're on your own. Your pal, etcOn the plus side, we note that there is a plug for the bath, an extravagence that will cost Travelhovel dearly later in the evening. Oh, yes.
Then I notice that the internet is being charged at £5 per hour in a brazen attempt to gouge even more from hapless customers of what must surely rank as the Ryanair of hotel chains.
Dear Travelhovel, Yeah, guess who? Five quid an hour for internet? Bugger, and indeed off. Over and out, Your former pal, etcLike a teenager with a hangover, we vow "never again", but know that - yes - we will.
Post script: This is the view you get of the place on Google Street View:
Speaks volumes.
13 comments:
"Let's drive a bit further until be wind the proper hotel."
Do what?
We stayed there a couple of weeks ago. There were holes in our duvet cover also. Perhaps you got the same room, but I don't remember breaking the bed. We have stayed in a better Travelodge up Oxford way, so I don't want to condemn the whole chain, but Whitstable was grim.
I keep falling into the trap of finding one of these places that's acceptable - Greenwich's is fine; Fulham's was borderline pleasant - and thinking that that sets a reliable pattern.
Milton Keynes. Never, ever, ever go to that one. Mind you, the fact that it's in MK ought to be some sort of a warning.
Dawn: stupid iPad predictive text
Enzyme: Swindon, and being told we had to make our own bed, was a bit of a low point
Don't let their newer sites lull you into a false sense of security either.
A couple of years ago, three colleagues and I booked into one of their newly opened hotels while working in the St. Albans area. Of the four rooms, only two were actually ready to use - a fact that we found only on accessing the rooms. Of the others, one could not be added to the automatic key system, meaning that for the duration of our stay one of our party had to be accompanied up to the room by an ill-willed receptionist with the master key every time he wanted to get in.
The hotel is built in an open plan design with the 'benefit' of a bar and dining area. Unfortunately this meant that every noise from the foyer and bar and dining area, and also from immediately outside the front doors filtered up to the rooms, including the noise of the bar staff clearing up and the scooter-riding mates of the spotty adolescent night staff who came to pay their working mates several visits throughout the night. Just in case any of the paying guests were still managing to sleep through this, we were given the added joy of the fire alarm sounding in regular short bursts, though we were informed "Nothing to worry about. It always does that"
The following morning, among the pre-packaged breakfast treats, the counter included a platter full of plastic-wrapped muffins which, on opening, were each revealed to have their own full covering of a lush, blue, furry mold.
Despite us submitting a full list of complaints to the chain, the hotel didn't see the need to reduce or waive the bill. Not surprisingly, shortly after our company set up contracts with a new hotel chain.
Knobbers, one and all!
Premier Inn is usually the lowest point I will go to where hotels are concerned. Yep I am a snob. However an ex of mine once booked us into the Travelodge in Durham. That's not the reason he's an ex. It wasn't too bad, clean and tidy, no holes in things, lights all working etc. Bed far too low and bloody uncomfortable but aside from that OK. That said it was 3 years ago and it had only just been refurbished. Far worse was a smaller hotel chain, I think it had a picture of a sun on it, just outside of Lincoln, a cheaper version of Travelodge and that's saying something! Same ex booked that!
Before I emigrated, my last two nights in the UK were spent in the Staines Travelodge.
It was actually OK.
Weird Cat: Premier Inn are bloody luxury compared with Travehovel, and even gave us a full refund after we were kept awake by next door's never-ending nocturnal gymnastics
Reminded me of my stay at the Travelodge which used to be the Dunlop Tyre Factory in the olden days.
Three fire alarms at regular intervals through the night, standing in my jim-jams watching the elevated section of the M6 in bemused wonderment.
Good grief. I HAVE willingly booked a Travelhovel room - the one at Gatwick Airport. And yes, we WERE woken in the middle of the night by the fire alarm, caused by some numpty trying to have a furtive cigarette in his room, despite the warnings not to smoke in rooms.
Try getting your car anywhere near the Croydon TravelHovel. A maze of one-way streets and median strips with fences along them, means the experience of "Oh, there it is, on the other side of the road", repeatedly.
After 15 minutes, I actually had to drive up a one-way street the wrong way to get near the building.
Firstly, a fiver an hour for interweb is about the same as being chained face down on the rickety bed and taken roughly from behind by Lenny Henry(sorry wrong chain).
In my hotel days, I count myself lucky. One place I stayed at in Hale in Manchester was hotel cum sports complex. Lift had strong smelly stuff to prevent smell of sweat being carried up to the rooms. Unfortunately, they did not think of this where the dining area was positioned so your dining pleasure was constantly interrupted by smelly socks and jockstraps - Lovely.
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