The hotel in the brochure looked quite desirable, but upon further inspection, quickly resembled a shabby, unkempt, unloved ramshackle of an ex-Butlins hotel that hadn't seen a lick of paint in many generations. It reminded me of the Inbetweeners movie where the teenage idiots arrive at their so-called hotel to discover a dead dog being pulled from the well by the hotel manager...."this isn't what it looks like in the brochure", they cried.
The hotel clientele were mostly elderly, and in the lounge area, it looked like God's waiting room with a plethora of hair pieces and dentures. While I was happily drinking and talking to other nerds, I noticed an elderly woman scouring at me, with a constant look of disapproval on her face, as if I was uttering the most obscene language. I think that was just her normal facial expression.
The single room I booked was the cheapest, yet had spectacular sea views of Scarborough beach. Friends had spent double the amount I did, only to occupy a basement room with no windows and no view - where's the logic there then.
After having spent very little time sleeping in my hotel bed, I crawled down to the breakfast area to be greeted by a sea of blue rinses, miserable faces and a strong smell of burnt toast in the air. YEP, it was time to eat a budget DIY breakfast out of a trough. Before I could sit down, an unfriendly member of staff abruptly asked me "Have you got your ticket?"....."um, no, I left it in my room"....."Well, how am I supposed to know you're a paying customer. You should have your ticket with you at all times!" Grunt, Grunt. Trying to be smart, I replied "Surely, my hotel door key is enough to tell you I'm a paying customer?". I feel I'm becoming cantankerous in my old age.
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