A Head of Steam and his Carpet!

The steam trains that run parallel to the hotel boundary wall aren’t popular with everyone, just 99%, as it is the most profitable private steam railway in the country. Mr. Jones, one of the other 1%, threatened legal action against us after his stay because of the trains.

He arrived with his sister to check into two available Dackombe Rooms; he wasn’t disabled, but wanted to be away from the main motorway A351 on which the hotel sits. These rooms are situated in the gardens about 80 yards from the main manor house.

He is an odd looking fellow with eyes too close together for my comfort, and only the bridge of his nose prevents a nasty accident. He wears an appalling rug that barely covers his baldness, to top it off, literally. It would help matters somewhat if there weren’t a colour change between his wisps and the toupee, the sort of anomaly that keeps the gaze wandering back to the “join.” His toupee does, at least, distract us from his breath, which smells much like cat litter. Somehow, I note in my mind, he and his sister who is no better to look at mean trouble.

Sure enough, like most first impressions, I’m right. He checks out a day early and gets charged a cancellation fee, which is standard business and hotelier practice; but his anger and attitude were as easy to remember, as his carpet.

The real entertainment started when I opened his hand written letter, penned in dark blue ink, the writing looked scratchy, maybe he used a quill to scribble the drivel. The post arrives with my third cappuccino:

“Far be it to educate your little brain but you should be aware of the flaws in your advertising.” That got my attention away from the memory of the man and onto the letter.

“The use of the word “ensuite” being used in connection the rooms you allocated me is at best erroneous but probably fraudulent.” He quotes from the Oxford Dictionary, “The definition of the word is, ‘a room containing a bath.’ My rooms had no bath, therefore, your advertisement in Alastair Sawdays Hotel Guide is factually incorrect in this regard.”

I had to chuckle, the room has the shower only “wet room” described by Sybling when taking the booking and, thankfully, noted it on the booking card. No mention was made about the necessity for a bath.

The Sawdays Guide always provides a good deal of positive editorial, and none of it is written by us, but by their writers after regular inspections of the Elizabethan manor. They complimented our special Dackombe rooms for the less able (or “not normally aspirated,” as Ted would say) with shower only ensuites. They also mention that they are situated in a quiet corner of the gardens. The hotel’s proximity to the quaint steam railway that runs along the hotel border wall is also noted with some applause.

His letter went on to repeat the comments he made when checking out:

“I was refused the chance to eat in my bedroom. Your à la Carte menu is only served in the restaurant.” This I already knew. We don’t offer this to any guest room, preferring to offer the higher standards of service and ambience in the dining room, which are expected by most. Trudging across a gravel car park with silver domed food, ice bucket, and a black peppermill is hardly the idea I had in mind when employing the best chefs and waiters I could ill-afford to prepare and serve the fare. “This severely reduced any possible enjoyment of the establishment you opportunistically call a quality hotel.”

His final point and his prime bone of contention is that the room is in close proximity to the railway. When booking, he had asked Sybling about whether the steam trains ran through the night, again something she noted on the booking card (having responded with a “No, the trains don’t run through the night”), along with his quote from the guide about wanting to be in a quiet corner of the grounds. “This room could hardly be quiet when a steam train whistled on its way into Corfe Castle station at exactly 11:17 p.m. (which I deem to be night time,) waking both my sister and I! I shall sue your sorry little hotel and drag your arse through court if you don’t repay me for the cancellation fee you levied when I checked out and for the night we stayed but never slept.”

I can almost not be bothered to fight, but resolve myself to a court hearing when contained in my reply are the following questions: “Why book a room with only a shower, if you ‘must have’ a bath? Why book a hotel that is fifty yards away from a railway line if you hate the sound of a steam engine whistle? Why book on an inclusive dinner, bed and breakfast package at a hotel that has a beautiful award-winning restaurant and then insist on eating in a bedroom the other side of the car park?”

Maybe more significantly, I left out my favourite…Why wear an Axminster carpet on your head that greatly differs in colour and style from what’s left of the hair you were born with?

My letter remains unanswered, the steam trains still don’t run through the night, and the carpets made locally in Axminster are still best laid on the floor