Whimsy on a Wednesday Bringing You Hotel Horrors, Art Atrocities, and the Quest for a Good Night’s Sleep

A Trip to Stratford-upon-Avon (Sort Of)

There’s not much whimsy this week, I’ve got to be honest. I went to Stratford-upon-Avon, Shakespearean land, to meet with family. Unfortunately, due to a fleeting visit, I didn’t have time to take in the half-timbered charm of the city and show you photos. My grand tour consisted of an Italian meal, a few bottles of Montepulciano, and a view from a restaurant window. No soliloquies, no sonnets—just spaghetti and an impending headache.

Premier Inn: The Smell of Regret

Now, I don’t expect the Ritz when I book a Premier Inn. I expect a solid, rather comfortable bed, an absence of surprises, and a general atmosphere of pleasant mediocrity. However, my particular room was less “restful retreat” and more “Victorian sewer system.”

The moment I stepped inside I was met with an aroma reminiscent of a festival portaloo on day three. I optimistically assumed this olfactory horror would dissipate after some airing out and a few glasses of wine. It did not. Instead of drifting into a peaceful slumber, I embarked on a cross-country pilgrimage to reception which was located approximately three floors, fifteen corridors, and one possible time loop away.

“Can I help you?”

“My room stinks. I thought I’d cope but I was wrong. It’s like sleeping in a crime scene… post-mortem.”

“I wish you’d told us before, there are no rooms left…” he said, tapping at the keyboard in the universal sign of Pretending to Look Busy.

“Well, I’m not sleeping in it. Either you find me another room or I start Googling alternative options.”

Suddenly, a miracle occurred.

“Oh, hold on… just one night, wasn’t it? I have one on floor 2.”

Floor 2 was actually floor 3.5, thanks to a mysterious set of bonus stairs that only appeared when you thought you were done climbing. But at least this room came with a critical feature: breathable air.

The “Deluxe” Floor

Turns out, I was now in the fabled Deluxe section of Premier Inn. What does “Deluxe” get you in a budget hotel chain, you ask?

• A free bottle of water (so luxurious!)
• A coffee machine (because instant granules are for peasants) But no pods to go inside.  I think you get those on Deluxe PLUS.
• And most importantly, no eau de sewage!

It’s the little things in life.

The Murderous Artwork

However, the true horror of the night wasn’t the smell. It wasn’t even the awkward shuffle of fellow guests performing the breakfast buffet tango in the morning. No, the real terror lay on the wall of my room.

I turned my head on the pillow and was immediately confronted with an abstract atrocity. And readers of this blog will know this isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with unsavoury art. On the wall hung an unsettling mess of red, violet, and an accent of blue, smeared onto a canvas like a Jackson Pollock fever dream. It looked less like an artistic statement and more like a forensic evidence board.

I sent a photo to a friend with art philosophy attached.

“How is that supposed to induce a good night’s sleep? What do you think the marketing team were thinking? Particularly when Premier Inn offers a GUARANTEE for a good night’s sleep or your money back!”

“Jules, it’s 11:40 PM… Go to sleep.”

But I couldn’t. How could anyone rest peacefully under the watchful gaze of what can only be described as Crime Scene: The Painting?

An Artistic Mission

I’ve decided that this must be my next career move. If that painting can make it onto hotel walls, then surely my work can too. My latest piece, Hush (available at the JS Art Blog and Gallery), is practically made for a hotel. Soft, subtle, free of forensic overtones. You can almost smell the aromatherapy!

Maybe I’ll start a campaign to replace every piece of traumatic abstract art in budget hotels with something conducive to sleep. Until then, if you find yourself in a Premier Inn, be prepared. You might get the deluxe room. Or you might get the dungeon.