In cod we do not trust
Trip Start Dec 31, 2010
24Trip End Jan 31, 2011
Map your own trip!
Show trip route
Where I stayed
A foggy run through Belgium and France. Avoided breakfast and lunch, opting for a little water to sip. The first thing I'm going to do after I check into my Scarborough hotel is buy some Laphroaig for medicinal purposes. Luck is with me over all, though, with no encores of the infamous bus performance in Crete.
An army marches on it's stomach, says Napoleon.
At Beiderbecke's Hotel and Restaurant, the balding and grey mustachioed owner bustles in and out of the public rooms playing the harried maitre d', with quiet words to the young woman at reception and the tall, gangly lad tending bar and waiting tables. But aside from a salesman frowning into his laptop and a foursome of chatty pensioners I am the only guest in a large room divided into a section of deep Naugahyde club chairs nestled around drink tables and one of cafe chairs and tables. The restaurant in the other wing is closed. The banquet room, behind a large sign with a photo of a bride and groom that says "Your special day at Beiderbecke's Hotel and Restaurant," is empty. Paintings of jazz musicians and New Orleans deck the walls and the soundtrack ranges from big band to torch songs.
I have a Laphroaig and thus encouraged, order a club sandwich and a pint of bitter, of which I consume half before heading up to my room.
The toilet lid and seat are a startling frenzy of neon blue and shocking pink. It must be said that the English have an eye for decor. Unfortunately, there is usually a patch over it.