It was reassuring to see the face of the Britain I remember
so well, this week.
I had to fly to Germany.
I had to overnight at an airport hotel for an early morning flight, so,
with all the on site hotels fully booked or charging an expensive price – the
reason for which will become evident – I ended up a little way from the airport
but that was fine; I knew the airport and knew that distance would not be an
issue… waking up at stupid o’clock in the morning would be.
All good. Train up,
perfect. Bus across, perfect. Walk to the hotel, perfect. First impressions – not so perfect. The building is a post-war, concrete edifice
– any takers for location yet? – I’m reckoning 1960s by design. That’s fine and well. The tower in Cwmbrân is a 1960’s design and
it’s just dandy (excellent parking too – GLC).
In this instance, it is the superficialities of the building that are such
a let down.
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| The majestic Cwmbrân Tower! |
The property fence was knocked over and broken, unkempt. The driveway pot-holed and uneven. The plants that lined the entranceway lawn alternated
with yellow hotel bins. The unsurfaced
car parking around the building held a tumbled-down wall, bricks scattered on the
floor. Welcome to the hotel.
The foyer is clean – it must be, there are hand sanitisers
on the wall for your use…and on the wall of each of the landings – a curious
and obviously welcoming feature. The
furniture in the lobby is worn, wearing in the cushions, threadbare. It was
warm, the heating worked. I know that
because the room I was in had the heating turned all the way to eleven. Thankfully, I could adjust, although even
with it turned down, I could feel my waters seeping through the pores of my
skin and evaporating into the atmosphere.
That’s cruel, possibly unnecessarily so, but then so was the next trick
the hotel played on me.
I tried to log on to the internet. No service.
I went back down to the lobby, in the lifts that told me about fines for
something or other rather than about services, and the internet worked. Excellent.
Back up to the room. No
internet. Back down to the lobby. Internet.
Me to receptionist:
“Please can you help?
I can’t get internet connection in my room.”
“There’s no internet in the rooms, only in the public
areas.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Obviously the
first "really" was said with disbelief, and the second with incredulity. In the lobby, I went online – sure enough,
free Wifi in public areas. Although,
just free Wifi on another site. Hey ho. So,
I had paid the expense of the room to leave the room empty and come and work in
the public areas of the hotel. Not a
problem, I thought, I’ll take my stuff down to the bar and work there. I got my stuff and went down to the bar,
literally separated from the lobby by an archway, and logged on to the
internet. Or tried to log on to the
internet. Back out into the lobby I
went.
This was the Britain I remember from before I departed these
shores. A backward looking forward
priced, can only order a three course meal in the restaurant but can eat from
the bar menu if you prefer, splash-marked bathroom door with the plug on a
chain not attached to the bath in the bathroom with an odd rusted porthole
circle in the wall next to the sink, and a door that looked prised open at one
time, unvalanced bed held up on bare two by four style pillars…but, but: the
bat-phone link to the taxi company worked, and the taxi driver was at the hotel
promptly and with humour – for stupid o’clock in the morning – and the transfer
to the airport was sweet. So,
ultimately, this place - near the NEC where Crufts was taking place and every
hotel and it’s dog was booked – fulfilled its brief. What a metaphor.
The hotel shall remain anonymous momentarily, a conversation
needs must happen before the big reveal.
By contrast, of course, The Golden Leaf Hotel in Frankfurt, a similar
concrete edifice, was a delight. Go
figure.
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| The Golden Leaf Hotel and Residence - Frankfurt. |
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