I think this is going to be a fairly varied collection of posts on stuff to do with art, science, culture, geekery and science communication. But we'll see, eh?
I wrote this for a competition in the Independent asking for 100 words on your best or worst hotel experience.
I still remember it sort-of fondly. The hotel was lovely, overall, and they were able to accommodate us all. But when you’re the project manager, the buck stops with you…
“I could fit you in, but the third room isn’t to the same standard.” I’d left it late to arrange accommodation so my two colleagues and I could run maths workshops in Dundee schools one windy November.
Leaving them choosing between the four-poster bed and the sea-view, the manageress led me to the end of the residents’ corridor. By the bed, a wire dangled ominously where the TV once was. How does a resident check-out, but by dying?
Come morning, my toilet had iced over. I’ve never been so eager to get to a school that early in the morning.
Last updated: Saturday, 09 Feb 2008 - 09:25 GMT
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Scott – the worst hotel experience I’ve had was of being put in a magnificent suite with bar (not mini-bar) etc. when I was booked in for a conference, expecting a bog standard room.
This was at the Sheraton in New Orleans. I was very impressed… until I opened the wardrobe and found it full of clothes and golf clubs. Then I noticed a cowboy hat on a coffee table.
‘What would the sort of person who left a cowboy hat on a coffee table do when he found a stranger in his room?’ I thought. Shoot first, ask questions later. I was genuinely terrified. So I locked myself in and called reception.
Yes, thanks to wonderful electronic keys, they had given me someone else’s room.
As the place was full I then had to stay in what was effectively a cupboard with a put-up bed. Ah, joy.
That electronic key problem has happened to me too – twice. On one occasion, I checked into an Amsterdam hotel very late, only to find that ‘my room’ came furnished with a semi-naked Dutch couple of advancing years. I learned a few Dutch curses that evening.
Another odd hotel experience was back in 2000, when I was working for Maths Year 2000 Scotland. I went to Manchester for the day to visit the companion Maths Year 2000 project’s Manchester Mathfest – a big Saturday-long hands-on exhibition at Manchester City football ground. I didn’t tell them I was coming – I just wanted to see what it was like as a visitor.
I popped down from Edinburgh on a day train ticket, wearing clothes for a sunny day, and with no bag. At the event, I met up with Alan, one of the senior staff from the London office – we were as surprised as the other to see each other. “Are you about this evening?” he asked, “there’s some things I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” My last train back was at about 6pm… but I thought I could stay in a hotel. “Great – well, come back to our hotel at the end and we can book you a room.”
So back I went to their hotel with him and a colleague. As the hotel was fully booked, we agreed to go get food, and then find me another hotel in town. We went up to their rooms, for them to get changed. Their swipecards didn’t work. The assistant manager of the hotel happened to be at the end of the corridor. She took Alan’s colleague’s card, tried it, let him in and told him to get the card recharged at reception. She took Alan’s card, and did the same. She turned to me. “Just the two rooms?” “Oh no, I’m just visiting.” She looked at me, looked at Alan, then looked me up and down, very slowly.
“Enjoy your stay” she smiled with pursed lips, and walked off down the corridor. As we walked into Alan’s double room, Alan commented, “I don’t want to know what she was thinking”. “Oh, I think I do…”
I remember that Dundee hotel as a good place to stay – Theresa got the four poster and I still have photo of her, somewhere, reclining on it with the Hoberman sphere perched on one hip. You never said a word about your frozen toilet.
From that year Galashiels is the one I rate lowest, brushed nylon sheets and stained bed spreads etc., but it was very cute in other ways, tartan teddy bears staring at you over breakfast, and it was dead handy for the venue.
The worst hotel I’ve stayed in was the Albion House Hotel , Kings Cross last April.
I don’t remember Gala much – think I was too tired to care. Elgin was a lovely b&b, and, umm, where was it again that we were down near Ayr? That was interesting – so out of season to be almost spooky. It’s all such a blur now, I can’t remember much about what was where…
Oh yes the deserted prom at Girvan – the hotel with the mouldy jacuzzi…nice view of Ailsa Craig though.