Patricia Brown

Holiday Accommodation Horrors

Copyright Patricia Brown The right of Patricia Brown to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library. ISBN 978 1 84963 228 7 www.austinmacauley.com First Published (2012) Austin & Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB Printed & Bound in Great Britain

Welcome to the world of Holiday Accommodation Horrors or HAH for short. Where shall I begin? We've all been there haven't we? However much we plan and look forward to our short breaks, long breaks or annual leave, we don't actually know what the hotel or bed and breakfast place is like until we have sampled it. Computers can give us an idea of what the chosen venue can offer with reports from previous guests very valuable information but until you have sampled the hospitality and facilities for yourself, you can't really know. From cartoons on the telly at 6am to lumpy mattresses, this book has it all. It tells you the pitfalls to avoid when booking hotel rooms or self-catering cottages. Some useful travel tips are included. Here then are some horror stories of various places that I have had the misfortune to stay in. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Chapter 1
Staying with friends and relatives
As intrepid travellers we experience quite a few different types of accommodation during our lifetimes. Staying with friends or relatives occurs at some point in most peoples lives. On the whole this is satisfactory but remember, if you are thinking about inviting folk to stay please observe a golden rule. Always sleep on the guest bed at some point before inviting them. You would be amazed at the number of uncomfortable nights I have spent whilst staying with people who are dear to me. For example: one mattress we slept on had been purchased many years before. It had springs which rebounded every time we moved. It was most uncomfortable. Another bed at a dear cousins house had a mattress which was so soft that we spent the night rolling into the middle of the bed. Yet another uncomfortable night was spent at a friend's house where the flex from an electric blanket was under my shoulders all night. Yellow pillows are not attractive and certainly not hygienic. Always replace pillows on a regular basis. When a pillow can be folded in half easily it has been proved to be full of house dust mite excreta. Charming.

Chapter 2
An Easter break in Dorset
Away for Easter. Ah yes. How great to be spending it at the seaside on the south coast of England. Weather forecast good as well. With a spring in our step and petrol in our car, we set forth. My husband and I had browsed the Dorset coast on the internet and booked a granny annexe for a week over the Easter holiday. We duly arrived on 'change over' day and, looking back, I wish we had driven on. Private parking, which had been promised, was nonexistent. We had to park on the road outside the property. We had paid for the week in advance which was possibly a bad sign. When the owner let us into the place our hearts sank. Just inside the front door to the right, was a lemon coloured bathroom circa 1970-something, with a hand-held shower spray over the bath. We ventured further into the annexe. It consisted of a minute kitchen area and a lounge which was cluttered with far too much furniture. The all important bed which had obviously belonged to Dear Departed Granny, was only 4 feet wide. We had been assured that the accommodation slept two people. It did just about if you were very small. My husband and I are not fat but we are tall, and the bed looked tiny. The landlady left us to settle in. Oh dear. We were not happy. However, as we had made the mistake of paying in advance,

we decided to stay. We spent five very cold nights at this abode. The flat roof over the annexe kept the place like a fridge. Lying like sardines in that 4ft bed was not amusing. The electric meter ate our spending money like no tomorrow. We actually came home a day early.

Chapter 3
Central Portugal A Walking Holiday
Most people, when they think of Portugal, think of port. Yes, it is still produced in Portugal but the landscape has changed radically during recent years. The Portuguese now grow rice. There are now many rice fields which do not enhance the scenic view. On our trip we stayed in three different hotels in various Portuguese villages. Two hotels were unremarkable, but one hotel in a small town was dire. I suppose that we should have heard warning bells in our heads when we checked in. We were greeted at reception by the hotel owners who were later referred to by our group as Mr and Mrs Glum. They had a son who we called Master Glum. The expression on their faces when we arrived made us wonder why they were in the hotel business at all. Fixed grins adorned their faces. Their smiles were completely artificial and did not reach their eyes. We obtained the key to our bedroom which contained some antiques. As we were later to discover, even the mattress was old enough to be called an antique. The evening meal must have been passable as I can recall nothing about it except for the wine. All wine was included in the holiday price and at the other hotels on the trip wed had no problem ordering more when we required some. However, at this hotel, when we had finished the bottle on our table (shared between eight of us) and requested another, Mr Glum was not enthusiastic about supplying it. With the help of our tour leader, we somehow managed to squeeze another bottle

out of him! When bedtime arrived, I lay on the mattress and nearly freaked. There were lumps the size of golf balls in the darned thing! I really tried to get comfortable but it was beyond hopeless. At one stage (after hours of restlessness) I put a blanket on the marble floor and willed sleep to come. Eventually, I climbed back into bed and fell asleep for a few hours from sheer exhaustion. The following day, I relayed the story of my dreadful night to our trusty leader. She kindly said that she would change rooms with me! I nearly kissed her feet! Stating that she could sleep on a clothes line, she trundled off to move her stuff. However, this was not the case. The following morning at breakfast, she arrived at the table wearing dark glasses and looking dreadful. She explained that she had remained awake for the entire night! She complained to the Glums about the appalling mattress and her sleepless night. They duly brought out a new mattress which was in a store cupboard on the landing just outside the bedroom. So near yet so far away! The next day we moved on to our next hotel. We were so glad to be leaving the hotel from hell.

Chapter 4
A Trip to Morocco
Morocco in December. Great weather. Two weeks off an English winter! We were with a group on a sightseeing tour of the Imperial Cities. The hotels could be best described as basic. At one overnight stop, the bath towels were so thin that they were virtually transparent. And about the size of a hand towel. I requested an extra towel and was informed that the man in charge of linen had a day off and that extra towels were therefore unavailable. I was not best pleased. The bathmat at this hotel was made of cork. It was so disgustingly dirty that I was afraid to use it in case I caught verrucas! The breakfast offered next day consisted of eggs, eggs or eggs. Dead egg citing! However, Morocco was well worth a visit as long as you remember to use toilets at hotels and not the public lavatories which are unspeakably dreadful.