I recently had the pleasure of staying in a 4 star hotel with some family members. We all agreed that the food was great, the setting was picturesque and the rooms were tastefully decorated. Well, for a bit over £300 I would expect this to be so, and as it was a hotel with a spa as well, it should be relaxing too.
It wasn't, for an hour, at least. First off the spa was fully booked up, which kind of defeated the purpose of going to a spa hotel, but I could live with that. However, for the several hours I and my relatives were apart I was utterly bored. You see, when you walk into a hotel room and see a TV, somewhere around the 30inch region, you think TV will save you from your hysterical boredom. Unfortunately, when you spend over an hour looking for the bloody TV remote, boredom, stress and anger seep through. I got so bored I gave up and spent half an hour contemplating why the controls on the TV itself cannot perform the necessary commands to actually be able to view any of the programmes, and why the TV remote apparently holds all of this voodoo magic that can actually make the TV do something other than make you want to do the whole rock 'n' roll thing of thrown the bloody thing out of the window and into the swimming pool below. I, however, did actually consider doing this until I realized that the pool was not outside my window, or in fact, outside at all.
Apparently, it turns out to be easier to throw a giraffe in a pool, or at least to find an image of.
No comments:
Post a Comment