When I heard the name of the hotel, and that they were charging £80 a night for a double room, I thought of some sort of corporately bland experience on a par with Best Western. Sadly, this was not the case.
We struggled for some time to find the hotel, only to realise it was the run-down shack on the seafront, tarted up with a few gaudy hanging baskets. Things didn't get any better as it was revealled that there was nowhere to park the car apart from the municipal facility that charged £5 a day. As we ascended the shabby stairs, and put our tacky key into the flimsy lock, our hearts sank in a sea of shattered expectations.
We opened the door of the room, or rather half-opened it, because it collided with the bed. This same bed was to be our instrument of torture. Small, yet perfectly formed to give you backache, it had obviously been perfected sometime in the late 1970s. The beige decor mirrored the tired atmosphere of the entire resort. An unusual floor-length window opened up onto the road below, beckoning us to take the fast exit from this place of torment.
In the morning, we stumbled downstairs half asleep, half numbed by the desperate discomfort of the night, At breakfast, the coffee came out a machine and the scrambled eggs came with a nasty taste of failed ambition. There was a queue for tables.
At checkout, they seemed unaware of whether we had stayed or not, and spent about 15 minutes faffing around with the bill, in a grimy reception area which only further depressed our spirits. However, in a way, it was an experience, even if it is not one we care to repeat.
- Carlton Hotel Swansea