Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Wednesday, 14 September 2016
Two nights in the kennels
H.I. and I used to specialise in not very nice holidays, and I thought we had broken that trend until the last few days.
The location of our hotel on the Gower is very pleasant indeed, but we were very worried that the constant howl of jet-skis would go on every day - it turned out to be a weekend activity only.
Now I am not the sort of person to expect chocolates on the pillow when I enter a hotel room, but I did think it a bit much that the first thing we encountered was an un-flushed toilet in our en-suite - with both types of human waste languishing at the bottom of the bowl.
When I mentioned it to the receptionist, she was aghast because, she said, it was her job to inspect each room before new guests arrived. To make up for this oversight, the cleaner arrived the next morning at 10.10 am (breakfast finished at 10.00) and hammered on the door before letting himself in. I could not answer it because I was in the bathroom giving him an extra cleaning job, so I had to shout for him to go away.
"I will come back later," he promised. Later for him was five minutes later, and we had to tell him to go away again, so he did - and returned five minutes later again. He obviously wanted to go home.
This hotel specialises in two things - weddings and dogs. It is such a dog-friendly hotel that they allow them in the restaurant. Consequently, every dog-owner from all over the U.K. uses the place, and they all bring a huge variety of mutts with them - and take them into the restaurant. It looks like I imagine John Gray's house to be and our first dinner was made hell by three particularly yappy daschunds.
The dog-owners who go to this place are all of the militant variety. If you show any sign of displeasure at a ball knocking over your beer in the garden, or a large, slobbery dog on a 50 foot lead jumping on you with dirty paws, you are treated as a dog-hater, which we are not.
There is music at breakfast time, coming through a large array of speakers which double-up as public address for wedding speeches. I don't like any music at breakfast time, let alone Frank Sinatra.
The food was mediocre in the extreme, and nothing is 'a problem' for all the staff. "Will you be having tea or coffee with your breakfast this morning?" "Coffee please." "No problem."
We made a break for the beach a couple of times, and the wide swathe of strand had a huge variety of shellfish living in and on it. There were oysters, mussels, razor-clams, whelks, edible sea-weed - I thought seriously about living off it for a couple of days, but we had already parted with the money so made the most of it.
When we were checking out, the receptionist asked if we had enjoyed our stay, and I was just about to tell her what I thought when a woman in the same room shouted out, "Yes", so I kept my mouth shut. We were not offered any compensation for the complimentary turd.
I am afraid to say that leaving was like being let out of an expensive prison, and arriving back to humdrum life is a big relief.