What, with last week being shittier than a flock of cows with double diarrhoea, I decided that I needed to get away for a bit. In Cognitive Behavioural Therapy parlance, it's called 'distraction tactics', a handy phrase that can be used to justify almost all hedonistic activity.
So tactically distract myself I did. By heading off to Edinburgh, Scotland, for a few days.
For some bizarre reason, I decided to travel by train (something I hadn't done for about fifteen years), and not much had changed. Firstly, the cost was extortionate - £137.00. Secondly, it took forever - 6 hours and 30 minutes. And thirdly, the food was minging. I had to survive the journey by nibbling on an anaemic burger that tasted like cat food. Not that I have ever eaten cat food (for the record). It's how I imagined cat food would taste. In fact, cat food would probably be preferable.
As the train chugged inexorably towards Scotland, it gradually emptied until I was the only one in the carriage. But then something bizarre happened. We stopped at an outpost approximately one hundred miles from Edinburgh, and a solitary bloke embarked.
Given the choice of an entirely empty carriage, he decided to take the seat right behind me. WTF! Is it me, or is that an etiquette faux pas? A similar scenario is when you are the only person in a large public toilet, and someone else comes in and selects the cubicle / urinal right next to you. It's just all wrong .... surely they know it makes your bladder contract faster than an octopus eating plankton.
Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that even though he was a bit weird, he wasn't an axe murderer, and I successfully arrived (alive) in Edinburgh at about 7pm.
Within one minute of arriving in Scotland, I was ripped off.
After leaving the train station, I jumped into a taxi and gave him the name of my hotel - The Jurys Inn.
"Nay problem, luv." he said.
And then he literally drove me 100 yards before saying, "Here we are, that'll be £5.00 luv."
Cheeky bastard. I could have walked that distance in less than 30 seconds. Who knew the hotel was so close to the station?
Never mind, I was there to chill out, so I checked-in and made my way to my hotel room.
Ostensibly, at first glance, it appeared to be a perfectly respectable hotel room. But after spending half an hour in it, the flaws started to appear. All I wanted to do was relax in bed with a cup of tea, some food, and a bit of internet time. Each of which were scuppered by:
- The fact that the kettle couldn't be filled because it didn't fit under the tap in the bathroom
- They didn't do room service
- Internet access cost £5.00 per HOUR! In this day and age - surely you're kidding me?
- The curtains weren't black-out curtains, and the street-lights were shining through
- The bed had horrible foam cushions (being Lady M, I am a stickler for duck-down cushions)
It didn't stop there.
'Ummm, a shower would be nice after such a long journey,' I thought.
So I headed to the bathroom, only to discover a tiny bath with a weak shower above, and a mildewy shower CURTAIN (what kind of hotel uses them in this day and age?) that clung to my body for the entire duration of my ablutions.
By this stage, I was feeling wearied by it all, and decided to go to bed .... not realising that I had inadvertently booked into the noisiest hotel on the planet.
In summary, every time the heating kicked in, the radiators made a loud knocking sound. Then at about 7am each morning, there was a huge clattering outside as the hotel put the bins out for collection.
As if that wasn't enough, on my second night there, the hotel had decided to undertake maintenance work on the room below. From 7.30am, all I could hear was the intense sound of drilling and hammering ....... for two solid hours. Bastards.
Then, on my third morning, I was awoken by someone knocking at my door. I opened it, bleary-eyed, only to find a member of staff standing there: "I just wanted to let you know that your 'Do Not Disturb' sign has fallen off your handle," he said. What a twat.
It couldn't get worse ....... or so I thought.
Shortly after the 'do not disturb' incident, a mad bloke started Scottish yodelling outside my window. He interspersed his 'song' with shouty words like 'HAGGIS!' and 'ARSE!', before repeating the cycle ad infinitum.
It was like sleeping in a bloody train station.
But I don't want to seem too whiny just because the hotel was shite. There were very many lovely moments to Edinburgh ..... and because I am like Ariel Sharon (except that I am not nicknamed the 'Butcher of Beirut'), here are some pictures for you ..........
I returned home from Scotland two days ago and am revelling in the abject warmth of Oxfordshire.
So dahlink, do you have any travel tales for me ...... come on ...... bad hotels and the like?
So tactically distract myself I did. By heading off to Edinburgh, Scotland, for a few days.
For some bizarre reason, I decided to travel by train (something I hadn't done for about fifteen years), and not much had changed. Firstly, the cost was extortionate - £137.00. Secondly, it took forever - 6 hours and 30 minutes. And thirdly, the food was minging. I had to survive the journey by nibbling on an anaemic burger that tasted like cat food. Not that I have ever eaten cat food (for the record). It's how I imagined cat food would taste. In fact, cat food would probably be preferable.
As the train chugged inexorably towards Scotland, it gradually emptied until I was the only one in the carriage. But then something bizarre happened. We stopped at an outpost approximately one hundred miles from Edinburgh, and a solitary bloke embarked.
Given the choice of an entirely empty carriage, he decided to take the seat right behind me. WTF! Is it me, or is that an etiquette faux pas? A similar scenario is when you are the only person in a large public toilet, and someone else comes in and selects the cubicle / urinal right next to you. It's just all wrong .... surely they know it makes your bladder contract faster than an octopus eating plankton.
Pic.No.1 The weirdy bloke in the seat behind me
Anyway, you'll be pleased to know that even though he was a bit weird, he wasn't an axe murderer, and I successfully arrived (alive) in Edinburgh at about 7pm.
Pic.No.2 This is a picture of Edinburgh from the train station
Within one minute of arriving in Scotland, I was ripped off.
After leaving the train station, I jumped into a taxi and gave him the name of my hotel - The Jurys Inn.
"Nay problem, luv." he said.
And then he literally drove me 100 yards before saying, "Here we are, that'll be £5.00 luv."
Cheeky bastard. I could have walked that distance in less than 30 seconds. Who knew the hotel was so close to the station?
Never mind, I was there to chill out, so I checked-in and made my way to my hotel room.
Pic.No.3 This is an exact copy of my hotel room. I forgot to take a picture so I had to nick it from the internet - hence the bluriness
Ostensibly, at first glance, it appeared to be a perfectly respectable hotel room. But after spending half an hour in it, the flaws started to appear. All I wanted to do was relax in bed with a cup of tea, some food, and a bit of internet time. Each of which were scuppered by:
- The fact that the kettle couldn't be filled because it didn't fit under the tap in the bathroom
- They didn't do room service
- Internet access cost £5.00 per HOUR! In this day and age - surely you're kidding me?
- The curtains weren't black-out curtains, and the street-lights were shining through
- The bed had horrible foam cushions (being Lady M, I am a stickler for duck-down cushions)
Pic.No.4 The Jurys Inn Hotel in Edinburgh - it's pants
It didn't stop there.
'Ummm, a shower would be nice after such a long journey,' I thought.
So I headed to the bathroom, only to discover a tiny bath with a weak shower above, and a mildewy shower CURTAIN (what kind of hotel uses them in this day and age?) that clung to my body for the entire duration of my ablutions.
By this stage, I was feeling wearied by it all, and decided to go to bed .... not realising that I had inadvertently booked into the noisiest hotel on the planet.
In summary, every time the heating kicked in, the radiators made a loud knocking sound. Then at about 7am each morning, there was a huge clattering outside as the hotel put the bins out for collection.
As if that wasn't enough, on my second night there, the hotel had decided to undertake maintenance work on the room below. From 7.30am, all I could hear was the intense sound of drilling and hammering ....... for two solid hours. Bastards.
Then, on my third morning, I was awoken by someone knocking at my door. I opened it, bleary-eyed, only to find a member of staff standing there: "I just wanted to let you know that your 'Do Not Disturb' sign has fallen off your handle," he said. What a twat.
It couldn't get worse ....... or so I thought.
Shortly after the 'do not disturb' incident, a mad bloke started Scottish yodelling outside my window. He interspersed his 'song' with shouty words like 'HAGGIS!' and 'ARSE!', before repeating the cycle ad infinitum.
It was like sleeping in a bloody train station.
But I don't want to seem too whiny just because the hotel was shite. There were very many lovely moments to Edinburgh ..... and because I am like Ariel Sharon (except that I am not nicknamed the 'Butcher of Beirut'), here are some pictures for you ..........
Pic.No.5 I had a bloody lovely pizza at a restaurant called Vittoria on the Bridge - an amazing Italian restaurant. The pizza was bigger than my head. Just as I like it
Pic.No.6 I also had a meal at a restaurant called 'The Dome'. The building and service was amazing. Apparently the building used to be a bank
Pic.No.7 The Dome had the biggest display of flowers that I have ever seen. It was probably bigger than Mother Theresa's muff fluff
Pic.No.8 Apparently this may be an Ionic / Corinthian / Palladia column. There has been a big debate about it on my Facebook. But all you really need to know is that I am in picture
I returned home from Scotland two days ago and am revelling in the abject warmth of Oxfordshire.
So dahlink, do you have any travel tales for me ...... come on ...... bad hotels and the like?
This post first appeared on Baumhaus Ltd - The Furniture Design Company, please read the originial post: here
