I confidently say that this is the worst nights sleep I have ever had in a hotel. Situated in the middle of what feels like a mall food court, you have all the usual lacklustre chain restaurants surrounding you. On entering it feels basic, sure, but the decor takes a much more sinister turn when you arrive on your floor, a corridor of beige, red and grey stretched out before you like the tunnel of a sick lymph vein. The rooms are tiny and the bathroom has been decked out with a kind of plastic shell, I expect there was some ‘we could just go in with a pressure washer and it will save time on cleaning’ notion behind this but the fly in that soup is that where there are joins in the shell, there is scum. Crevices of brown dirt. The air con is practically redundant, so I was at least thankful I didn’t have to stay here last week when it was 30 degrees. Now, the bed. What can I say? As I lay here typing this, hoping it will prevent someone else from making the error of booking this hotel, my back and neck are aching. The kind of throb that says ‘you’re going to really feel this soreness when you’re on the train home later and maybe for a few days after that!’ I can feel that on the divan is merely a topper, about 3 inches thick, not even a real mattress. I’ve tossed and turned all night, only to give up entirely at 4am when the seagulls started screaming outside the window. While they can’t do anything about that, they could have, and should have, invested in better glazing.
