This story is part of our 'Funniest hotel experiences' series, featuring tales from luxury hotel guests which were sent in for our recent travel writing competition. Photo by Tomorrow Never Knows.
------
We were looking forward to an expensive night in the hotel where we had spent our summer honeymoon. Originally an Edwardian hunting lodge, we were confident of finding roaring log fires, central heating, and delicious cuisine.
As we left home, there was a faint dusting of snow on the banks of the lanes on the edge of Dartmoor. Reaching higher ground we saw there had been a fall of snow surrounding the area of the hotel, though the lane from the nearby village had been gritted.
Even in four- wheel drive, it was hazardous driving, as black ice lay in patches. We crawled up the long lane and turned into the drive. The hotel was in virtual darkness, though there were a number of vehicles parked, so it was obviously busy. Bearing a torch, the flustered owner flung open the front door, and we were ushered inside. Sure enough there was an open fire blazing away and a row of guttering candles on the shelf above, but no sign of guests.
We were shown to our room, which was freezing, the porter explaining that there had been major power cuts in the local electricity sub-station, and meanwhile the hotel was operating on one generator, the chef cooking on a single gas ring, by hurricane lamp.
On making our reservation, my husband had ordered a bottle of champagne to be placed in the room. It had, but no ice bucket was necessary! Wearing overcoats, we descended with our bottle and met another couple in the bar.
It became apparent that this was going to be a long evening. Fortified with bubbles, conversation flowed and it transpired the husband was a barrister from London in chambers to which my husband, a "simple country solicitor", was acquainted.
Whilst the owner’s immaculately dressed wife, was frantically dusting everything in sight to calm her nerves, the men hatched a plan. Deciding that as a solicitor always undertakes negotiations the manager should be asked for a discount and if successful being British in an American owned hotel we would show ‘Dunkirk spirit’ and stay, alternatively drive home taking our new friends with us.
As my husband disappeared into the office, a bewildered trickle of guests carrying candles wandered down for dinner. Emerging triumphantly, assuring the manager that he could have total Dunkirk spirit, the lights immediately came on! We went upstairs for a hot bath, and hours later, fell into bed well fed and watered. Next morning, during his ablutions, my husband flushed the lavatory. It kept on flowing, flooding the carpet with a steady stream of semi clean water. Rushing downstairs to find help, I fortuitously bumped into the hotel photographer doubling as maintenance man! In his underpants my husband straddled the by now flowing river trying to shave when the part-time maintenance man said "Oh dear. Sir, you will recommend us to all your friends?" Now I would never have thought of that!
Read all of the competition entries: