"Desperate affairs require desperate measures." Yet another of Nelson's famous quotes rang around my head, when I returned to the depot and realised that I had a hole in my trousers and my car key had dropped through it.
It was a toss up as to whether I felt like a lemon or a prune. Either way the situation was hopeless. Stuck in the hills with the temperature plummeting to below freezing, was not a pleasant experience. Desperate measures were indeed required. So I called the wife and cried for help.
It had been an awkward day in one respect. Every hotel we went to with the Nelson Society had the same problem. They were not coach friendly. Turning around was awkward. There was no room. The roads were exiguous. It was as if they wanted the people but not the buses - a familiar problem.
What is wrong with these expensive hotels?
As an outsider they seem to be so accountant driven that they forget the basics of looking after their guests. All the hotels seemed to be overly busy with numerous weddings. Poor old Nelson Society suffered. One hotel took one hour for their starter to arrive. Another hotel had no parking as whatever parking there was had been nabbed by the wedding planners, the florists and the cake makers. Another hotel was staffed by politely off hand Eastern Europeans, adept at digging their heels in and refusing to help, yet smiling as they do so.
The last hotel we visited was the narrowest. This was made worse by the placement of a multitude of stone boulders and wooden posts.
"Where would you like us to park?" I asked (I thought reasonably) the assistant hotel manager.
"We would like you to park as close as possible to the front door," he replied unhelpfully.
"If we park any closer, you won't have a front door," said the other driver. The manager melded into the background and offered no more information. The best thing, the two bus drivers decided , was to ignore everything.
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