The journey up north had been terrible; it had rained all the way up the M1. For those of you who do not know, the M1 is the motorway that takes you out of London and up to the north of England.

The customer I was working for had booked the hotel. It was a privately owned place and to be fair as soon as I pulled onto the car park I was wondering if I should find somewhere else.

The car park was almost empty. There was rubbish blowing around and it did not look very nice at all. There were overflowing bins and empty pint glasses in the beer garden. Cigarette butts were scattered across the car park. The Sign above the door was missing three of its letters.

I grabbed my overnight bag out of the cars boot and headed into the reception. The reception was dowdy and unkempt; the only beacon of hope was the receptionist. She was pinning notices to the notice board when I walked in. I guessed her age at around twenty-five. She had blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and a cute smile.

She had a nice figure, not big and not small; as she reached up to the notice board, I could see she had a nice set of hips and a nice round bum. She was wearing a dress, obviously the company uniform; it was short and showed a nice pair of legs.

When she turned to say hello, I could see she had a nice pair of boobs, they looked big on her average frame, and she had a very pretty face, nice ruby-red lips, and bright blue eyes.

“Hello there!” she said as she walked behind the reception desk, “My name is Becky, how can I help you today, Sir?”

“I have a room booked in the name of Zak...” I said with a smile.

“Oh yes we have you down here, it’s all paid for, you are in room 101,” she said and handed me a check-in card to fill in, once that was done, she gave me a key and a scrap of paper with the WIFI code on it.

“Would you like to book a table in the restaurant tonight?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes please, Becky,” I said and at the same time I glanced at my watch, it was six o’clock, “do you have one free around seven o’clock please?”

“Yes, that’s no problem at all,” she said tapping away at her computer keyboard.

Then she looked up and again beamed me a smile, “Right that’s all done for you, So, your room is down the corridor, through the double doors and to the left.”

________________________________________ My room was like a throwback to the sixties, I had never seen so many variations of beige in one room. There was a desk covered in coffee rings and cigarette burns, as was the bedside table. The curtains were frayed and had seen better days. The carpet was stained and threadbare in places.

I pulled back the duvet and the bed looked and smelled clean so that was a bonus I thought to myself I went into the bathroom, and it had also seen better days, the bath had rust stains and the mirror was cracked. The basin, bath and toilet looked clean but all had seen better days and there were more than a few chips in the porcelain.

I filled the kettle to make a coffee, and as it boiled, I comforted myself with the thought that I was only here for one night. I looked around the room as I waited for the kettle to boil; there were cobwebs on the light fittings and there was a repair in the plasterboard wall, which looked like a five-year-old had been let loose on it. To say it was shabby was an understatement.

I looked around and again the fact that I was only there for one night flooded back into my brain and I decided to make the most of a bad situation. The kettle beeped to say it had boiled so I made myself a coffee, I grabbed a novel from my overnight case, sat on the bed and drank coffee whilst I read.

________________________________________ I went down to the restaurant and again was amazed by how many shades of beige there were, it was a homage to the sixties I was sure, a theme restaurant for days gone by. Four of the tables were being used and one young waiter serving. He showed me to a table and plonked a menu in front of me. He then walked off to serve someone else. Ten minutes later, he returned to me.

“Can I get you a drink mate?” he asked more back street café than a hotel restaurant.

“Yes, a pint of lager and a jug of water with ice but no lemon please,” I said with a smile.

I read the menu and decided on the soup followed by a steak, while I waited for the waiter to come back, I continued reading my book. He walked in and out of the room a few times, and a glance at the clock told me it was twenty minutes since I had ordered my drinks.

A glance around the other tables told me I was not the only one who was getting annoyed at the lack of service. People were looking at their watches and I heard some tutting going on.

He came to the table with the lager and jug of water with lemon and no ice, I pointed out his mistake and he tutted before returning with a jug of water with no lemon and no ice. I did not bother asking him to correct it. I just ordered my soup and fillet steak, cooked medium rare!

It was half an hour later, by the time he came back with my starter.

He plonked the soup in front of me and a plate with a bread roll, the roll rolled off the plate and hit the floor, he picked it up and placed it back on the plate, nice I thought to myself.

“Any chance of a new roll please?” I asked, the floor did not look clean at all and there was no way I was going to use the five-second rule.

“Yeah, I suppose so if you really want one!” he said, two minutes later he placed a roll on the plate.

Two spoonfuls told me all I needed to know about the soup, I called the waiter over to my table.

“I am sorry this is cold and tasteless,” I said trying not to convey any anger.

“Shall I pop it in the microwave to warm it up?” he asked obviously trying to be helpful.

“No that’s fine; I will go straight to the main,” I said and gave him a polite smile even though in my head I was thinking thoughts that were far from polite I should have known something was wrong when he came straight back with it, it was overcooked and looked like a bit of old shoe leather. The chips were nearly burnt and the peas were like hard bullets.

There were no mushrooms or onion rings, which are the standard sides with a steak in my book.

Again, I called him over and he did not really know what to say. He offered me something else but told me there would be an hour’s wait as a table of four had just ordered and the chef was stressed out.

I told him not to worry and to give me the bill, I was expecting to pay for the beer only but he gave me a bill to sign with the soup and steak still on it.

“I am not paying for the food I sent back pal,” I told him as politely as I could.

“Well, someone has to and you ordered it mate!” he told me his voice loud and angry, so much so that other diners looked around at my table.

“There is no way I am paying for it mate, to be fair it was inedible,” I told him, my voice quiet and level.

“Look mate, you ordered it and you have to pay for it,” he said in a very confrontational tone. He looked like he was itching for an argument, looked like he was eager to get stuck in.

It was all about to kick off when Becky the receptionist walked into the restaurant, I called her over and she did so with a smile.

“Is everything okay Sir? “She asked, the question was directed at me but the waiter replied.

“This joker won’t pay for his food,” he shouted, that was enough for me.

I pushed my chair back and stood up, and the waiter stepped back. Now I was on my feet he was not so brave and not so eager to shoot his mouth off.

“Daniel, please apologise to the customer now,” Becky said sharply so I sat down.

“Sorry mate,” he said sulkily but you could tell he was not.

“Right Daniel if you would like to serve some of the other tables,” she said in a curt voice and he ambled off giving me a shitty look, on another day in another place he would have been on his arse.

“Right sir, please tell me why you don’t wish to pay for the food?” she said and gave me that beaming smile.

So, I gave her the whole story chapter and verse, she made apologetic noises as I told her the story. When I had finished, she asked me if I would like another drink, which she poured, delivered, and went over to talk to Dan the waiter. Minutes later she came back, took my bill, and ripped it up.

“I am so sorry it seems we have really let you down,” Her smile had gone but she still acted professionally.

“That’s okay these things happen,” I replied. There was no point getting arsey with her, she had not been involved.

“Are you sure there is nothing else you fancy?” she asked, the was almost a note of pleading in her voice, to be fair if she knew what was going through my mind, she might have slapped me around the face.

The fracases in the restaurant had left me with a bad taste in my mouth I decided to call it a night.

“No thanks, I will just head back to my room,” I replied and off I went.

Once I was back in my room, I closed the door behind me.

I fired up my laptop and opened up a browser, and from my favourites picked the link to a well-known travel review website. I would have done the review there and then but the hotel’s WIFI was so slow I gave up and decided to take a shower.

So, I stripped off and went into the bathroom, to be fair the water was nice and hot. I do love a long hot shower. I had just stepped out and started to dry myself when there was a knock on the door. I wrapped the towel around my waist and went to the door. I opened it and there was Becky, she was carrying a big tray with a silver cloche on top.

Without a word she slipped past me and placed the tray on the desk and took off the cloche, there was a cheese sandwich, some potato chips in a bowl, a huge slice of chocolate cake and two cans of beer.

“Here you go, Sir,” she said with a smile, “I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

“That’s very kind of you, Becky,” I said and smiled at her.

“Well, you look like a man that has a healthy appetite,” she said and I saw a cheeky grin flash across her face.

She looked at the desk and her face darkened, and a sadness fell over it. She had seen the screen with the travel review website open and ready to go. She must have known it would not be favourable.

“Please Sir, please don’t do us a poor review!” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I know we have let you down but we are doing our best!” she sighed.