Some rapid changes to plan today saw me needing a hotel in Norwich for the evening. So at lunch time we made some calls and booked in to one on the outskirts which seemed ideal.
Now, I don't know if you know Norfolk. But it takes rather longer to get places than you might imagine. The A11 is seemingly endless. So I set off in plenty of time (many of my formative years were spent on the Norfolk Broads, I know what to expect). Sure enough there were problems on the road but I got to the hotel in just over two and a half hours. Not the best looking hotel, but a hotel none-the-less. Went in. Gave my name. Signed the necessary. Wandered up to my room. Put the key card in and the door opened. Only for me to be faced by a pile of clothes on the floor, the tely on, and a shower that had obviously just been used. Thankfully I couldn't see the occupant. But I definitely had not asked to share a room.
Back down I went. Explained the situation. The receptionist looked at me as though she didn't believe me. But I convinced her that a pile of clothes on the floor wasn't what I hoped for. She looked on the system. Then looked again. Then went to a little cupboard and looked through loads of paperwork. Said "oh". Looked at me. Looked away. Asked me to wait. Went away. Came back. Went away again. Came back with someone else. They opened with "we know what's happened, we double booked". Now I admit I am not always the sharpest card in the box but, to be honest, I had already worked that one out. It was then that they admitted that there was no room at the inn.
I am now in a different hotel!
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