Every time I drive myself back from Stratford these days it is in atrocious conditions. Once again, mist like the end of the world, shovelfuls of rain smashing into the windscreen. Lots of slow cars holding tight in the fast lane. I finished The Coming Storm. This contemplation of so many of the ways in which we can explode thoughts to fit our instincts. It’s very good. No solutions, but plenty of context. It’s a podcast on BBC Sounds. Gabriel Gatehouse. Gotta be interested in pattern matchers.
This morning I woke up in my pleasant room in Swan’s Nest Hotel. I came from my friend’s place with a driveway. The hotel took my numberplate when I checked in so I wouldn’t get accidentally charged for parking, being a resident (so I thought). I could’ve left my car at Avonside or in any number of places a bit further out. But they had a car park as part of the high charge for the room, thought I in my foolish innocence. Sometimes it’s nice to lean into the luxury I told myself when I booked the expensive room instead of staying at my friend’s place just round the corner.
Last night I had a steak in their restaurant. I was thinking of paying for breakfast when I returned my key. I bought some drinks at the bar. Lots of my money is now their money.
I wrote about this on Google reviews, and I’m putting it in my blog as well, because I was genuinely angry and surprised that when I went to check out she charged me EIGHT POUNDS FOR PARKING. Totally unexpected. I was so shocked I froze.
“It’s on the website,” she shrugged, like you say “it’s in the terms and conditions.” I booked through a third party website. It’s code for “We got you.” She was playing hardfront immediately as well, like she was in the right, not an extension of this unethical hidden charge. Obviously people kick off all the time with this, and with good reason, or she wouldn’t be all front. I knew I hadn’t got any charges, it was just me trying to dot the i that caused me to formally return my room card. What a fucker.
I paid it. But honestly what a pile of crap. They need to put up signs. They definitely need to tell us about it when we check in. It is an absolute swizz, it is wrong, it is terrible business practice, squeezing extra money from residents by surprise. For parking. On a weekend. It’s short termist unpleasant thinking. I hate them for it.
I went for lunch with my friends here when I was working over the road, I stopped occasionally for drinks too, I thought I might start staying regularly – I’ll be back up in town in February and in June as I’ve already got tickets for shows with friends in. I’ll never darken their doors again because of that £8.00. It’s the principle of the thing. They need a management overhaul.
I went over the road, the other side of the river from that vile place, into more familiar territory. Had a yummy breakfast and coffee at wonderful Bardias, went over to Avonside to see friends (and park for free), said farewell to the town for the short term again. I’ll be back before long – not at Pirate Central – there are thankfully some wonderful places to stay in that town that aren’t fleecing you.
I’m still really angry about just eight pounds. It’s totally disproportionate, but the fact I wasn’t informed before, coupled with the absolute lack of fucks given at reception. Nobody likes to feel like they’ve been made a mug of. The major thing is that I loved the place right up until that lady at reception pulled that at the very last possible minute. It’s like being stabbed by your mate. I hope they get lots of use out of my eight quid. Grumble Grumble. Silly fuckers.
AlBarclay 