Pound Stretcher

Well, I thought very hard about staying away, but decided I couldn’t do that to you. D and I had a seriously good time but they do say you can have too much of that. Although quite frankly I’m not too sure how that idea came to be swallowed. I mean a good time is a good time, isn’t it? Regardless of how long it goes on. It was probably a phrase invented by the Spanish Inquisition, which nobody expects.



But back to my weekend. It was fantastic. A whole weekend. No children. No husbands. Just my bestest friend in all the world and time. But it wouldn’t have been half so much fun if it’d not been such good value for money.

Right from its very inception it was a bargain. Y’see, D and I have always competed with each other in getting the best bargain, although I have to say she’s way more talented at this than me. She subscribes to travelzoo and picked up our two nights in a four star hotel on a bed and breakfast basis for the incomparable price of thirty nine of our English pounds each. Yes, that’s each! Ok, so it was in Daventry. Or rather it aspired to be in Daventry. But so what? We had transport. We had maps. And so before you could say ‘goodheavensthat’sanincrediblygooddealyou’vefoundyourselvesthere’ it was booked and paid for. Hoorah!

We arranged to meet at the hotel as we were travelling from opposite ends of the country and I happened to arrive first. Modern building but not a building site or portacabin. So far so good. Plush reception with friendly receptionist. Excellent. Walk of about five miles to room. Not so good but could come in handy to burn of the excess calories I am intent on consuming. Some hours later, I arrive at room and enter to be greeted by sight of enormous king size bed, just the one. Well, that’s not going to work. So, I set out on the five-mile return journey to reception and explain the problem to very nice receptionist who apologizes profusely. Another room allocated, this time definitely containing twin beds I am assured. As this is diagonally opposite the original room it involves the five-mile journey once more. Hours pass. Arrive at new room and enter. Another enormous king size bed greets me only this one has a mocking air about it. Five-mile return journey once again undertaken. Very nice but now seeming slightly dim receptionist giggles with embarrassment as I explain that while I like D, I don’t like her that much. Yet another room allocated. This time mountaineering is involved. And a seven-mile journey. Upstairs. Then downstairs. But eventually, after a couple of years, I arrive. I open the door. Twin beds. At last.

I settle down to a spot of reading while I wait for D to arrive. Which she does about an hour and a half later. By now it’s late and we’re tired so rather than go out we decide to order a meal in the bar. Not the restaurant. We’d need to mortgage a small country in order to eat there. We order at nine o’clock. We have a drink and try to pretend we’re not so hungry that even the bar towels look tasty. Twenty minutes passes with much laughter from us it has to be said. Well, it probably doesn’t but I wouldn’t want you thinking that we sat in silence. I’m not big on silence. But you probably knew that. I ask the barman how long we’re likely to have to wait. Not long, I am promised. I go back to laughing with D. It gets to half past. I ask again how long. Very soon, is the answer. The laughter has the hollow ring of hypoglycaemic hysteria now. But we still indulge in it. 9:45pm and enough is enough. D dresses down the nearest barman who scurries off to the kitchen only to have to return with bad news. Pity this poor boy. He had to come and tell us that not only was our meal not yet ready, but that they’d lost the order and not yet started cooking it. Actually in the face of such incompetence hysterical laughter really did seem to be the most appropriate response. When it did arrive mine was decidedly cool in the middle whereas D’s veggies had morphed into something entirely different from her order. Not quite the calorie-laden exercise we’d intended it to be but excellent value for money as we didn’t have to pay for it. And they threw in two rounds of free drinks as well. Hoorah!

So I think that’s Friday night covered. Saturday was fabby. The culinary disaster of the night before was clearly an aberration as breakfast was divine. Then we shopped. And shopped. And shopped. It was one of those trips when every shop had one of every item we desired in the perfect size/shape/design. I knew it was going to go well because I’d had a cardigan moment on Friday morning. I’ve been searching high and low for the perfect red cardy for many months, and on Friday, before I even left for the trip, we found each other. It was a good omen.

And the perfect way to round off an excess of shopping? A visit to the spa. No, not the Spa supermarket … well, not unless they’ve changed a lot. An awful lot. D had a massage while I was smothered in goo and wrapped in plastic. Slightly odd experience but not at all unpleasant.

When we got back to our room we were both a bit floaty so didn’t really notice the wet bathroom floor. I mean it wasn’t sopping or anything. And it was a bathroom. Four hours later, however, it was impossible to ignore any longer. The tiles were lifting up and a brownish liquid was seeping in at an alarming rate. Nice. Cue another journey of several miles as once again we move rooms. This time, no amount of trekking over the whole hotel could find us a twin bedded room. We each ended up with next door double rooms. Which was fine. But while five rooms, two free meals and four free drinks over the course of one weekend meant our pounds stretched a very long way, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe the name of our hotel was actually Fawlty Towers …