When I started to plan my 23-day visit to the United Kingdom last summer, I had no luck finding a hotel that was haunted for my first three days, which were spent in London. I knew there must have been several, but neither the books I had nor websites I browsed identified them. Travel Writer Robin Mead said in his book, Weekend Haunts, he had problems finding one in central London, so it wasn't just me. The managements at these hotels must be stifling their stories, despite the advantage in marketing. Failing to pinpoint any with that particular feature, I had considered going to Best Bed & Breakfast, then thought of my old place of employment.

Back in 1979, I took advantage of a student work exchange program and found a job as a chambermaid at the Drury Lane Hotel, a four-star hotel that was a part of the Grand Metropolitan Hotel chain. It was a job I hated, but it gave me the opportunity to spend six months in London. After making beds and cleaning up after guests 26 years before, it would be a hoot to return as one myself. Unfortunately, the place has taken a change in direction since the days Grand Met had it. The property has been sold twice since I worked there and it is now a part of the Travelodge chain. I know what the Travelodge London Covent Garden was before. The inside of the building now shows wear and tear, gives motel style service, and at £85 per night, is certainly not worth paying its full asking price.


Booking my room and getting there

Before leaving California last July, I had planned on winging most of my accommodations during my trip, but I knew I had to have a booking prepared for my arrival in London. It's one of the first things Customs asks when you enter the country. Grand Met had sold the Drury Lane to Moat House, yet there was no listing for it on the company's website. It crossed my mind that something else may have happened to place, so I did a search on its address, 10 Drury Lane. It was then that I learned it was swallowed up by Travelodge. This boded ill. Either this motel chain wanted something a little more upscale or the hotel went downhill. Judging by the reviews on Tripadvisor, it appeared to be the latter. CR01, who was helping to arrange an unofficial Epinions Meet & Greet in London, also mentioned the poor reviews on Tripadvisor. Looking at the Travelodge website, it emphasizes economy over frills, so that intention needs to be considered as well. Regardless, I knew from experience it was good location in Central London and was still curious.

I tried booking from the website and found it no longer had any rooms available at its special internet rates on the days I requested. It's hard to explain why I was still determined to stay there, but I went ahead with the booking anyway. I filled all the required fields on the website and submitted, but then it refused my Visa number. There was no reason for that; my account had plenty of clearance. I tried once or twice more just to be sure, then gave up. Maybe it was looking for a number with something European about it. Perhaps it was an omen. Maybe something out there wanted to prevent me from seeing the place after the passage of time. I stayed up late that evening and made the reservation by phone, where the lady said it was formerly the Drury Lane Moat House. "And before that, it was the Drury Lane Hotel, run by Grand Met," I added. They were cutting no slack for smart-*ss former employees.

My original plan to go to the Travelodge from Heathrow was to take the underground, aka "the tube," which is London's subway system. The Piccadilly Line starts at Heathrow and stops at Holborn, the station closest to my chosen lodging. I planned on only packing one Swiss Army duffelbag, which had its own wheels, and a backpack, so this should have been doable. I'm sorry to say the reason my plan was thwarted was a lot bigger than anything within my power. Four bombs set by Muslim militants went off within London's public transport system earlier that month, including one on the Piccadilly Line, just a stop or two before I would have disembarked. Despite all the deaths and injuries these explosions imposed, London commuter traffic was quickly recovering when I arrived. That stuff about British stiff upper lips is so true. Since such attacks are so infrequent in the USA, Americans have a ridiculously high expectation of safety. On the other hand, Brits who were unaffected by the July 7th bombings were back at work the next day. After dealing with IRA attacks for several decades, Brits know letting terrorists stop people from carrying on with life is letting them win. Nevertheless, there are still practicalities to observe. When I arrived on July 28th, several tube stations were closed while the trains, tracks, tunnels, and depots were being repaired. It took my breath when I walked out of Heathrow's terminal to see a bobby heavily armed, something I had never seen during my previous three visits to the UK.

Thanks to my old friend, Julie, who commutes to London from Hertford, I had an alternate plan. She advised that I take the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station and take a cab from there. Although it was a long wait for both the train and cab, this worked out just fine. When my black cab arrived, the outside of the former Drury Lane Hotel looked pretty much how I remembered it. It had the façade of an office tower in the 70s and still did. I forget what business took the adjoining street level spaces, but that cement courtyard—dotted with a few plants—was still there. It would be the only thing that remained unchanged.


Checkin

Considering the size of the building, it lost the lobby it once had. Of course, in those days, chambermaids were discouraged from spending anymore time than they absolutely had to in public areas. The sleekly decorated, wide space with dim lights was gone as was the inset reception desk and high ceilings. The room was bright with a white tiled floor. The front counter had moved up much closer to the bar area and acted as sort of a corral around the door to the office behind it. The young clerk found my reservation easy enough and asked if I wanted breakfast as well. Not sure what I wanted to do the following morning, I declined for the time being, but I had the option of paying for breakfast later.

I was assigned room 141, which made me think. When I worked there, the Drury Lane had no sleeping rooms below the fifth floor. But then, it only had 128 guest rooms. The restaurant, function rooms, and kitchens, aside from the behind-the-scenes work rooms were underneath the bedrooms. When I worked there, room 141 might have been used for laundry or staff dining. Obviously, the no-frills Travelodge found more income renting out bedrooms. I was given directions how to find my room, but it made little sense and went over my head. The young lady was quick to dismiss me, so I didn't push it. After all, I was already familiar with the building. So I proceeded to get lost, literally. Serves me right for being a know-it-all. Without even being offered any help, I went to the elevator and stepped out onto the first floor. The next big difference I noticed was the doors. No matter what direction I went, it seemed like I had to go through a door every sixteen feet. I went through the doors, passed maids cleaning rooms, looked at the signs on the walls that never acknowledged a 141, went up and down stairs, and felt like I was in a fricking maze. Finally, I shucked all pride aside and asked one of the maids to help me. She led me through a couple of corridors and down another flight of stairs or two. We went through still more doors until I was in front of one marked 141. Hallelujah. I gave the maid a £2 coin for her assistance. Later I learned the most efficient route would have been to go outside, cross the concrete courtyard, use my cardkey to go inside again, climb a couple of flights of stairs, and then, after another turn or two, find the door to my room.


Room 141

After 26 years, I certainly never expected the rooms to have the same subtle green, brown, and cream décor they had before. Those 70s colors had indeed changed. I missed noting what they were, but they were different. However, considering this was something other than a bedroom in 1979, it would have been different no matter what. The floor plan was unlike any I cleaned. The king-size bed barely fit in the sleeping portion, but it had a relatively long breezeway, which accommodated the sink vanity with lots of counter space and the closet, that led to the bathroom. The room was furnished with a desk, chair, and nightstands for both sides of the bed. As it turned out, the king-size bed was actually two twins pushed together. A color TV sat at the end of the desk. In true British form, an electric tea kettle with all the accoutrements was also provided. In the U.S., it would have been a drip coffeemaker.

I supposed what bothered me most was the wear and tear in the room. The walls were scuffed and had holes where fixtures had apparently been removed. Watermarks in the outline of the bottom of mugs and glasses scarred the desktop. And to think my supervisors used to give me a hard time when they found simple dirt spots on the carpet. As it turned out, the most inconvenient aspect of the room was that it had no phone. What's worse, I know these rooms used to have them. There's no good reason why they were removed and this proved to be a big issue during my stay, even though I brought my mobile and purchased a UK sim card for it.


The bathroom

While the sleeping room might have been a bit small, the bathroom was much more spacious. It had a toilet and a bidét, which was an obvious carryover from the hotel's 4-star days. Only one set of towels was provided. The tub was on a riser and—matching the run-down qualities of the bedroom—had poorly patched grouting around it. Since I like having a fresh towel after every shower or bath, this was enough to tide me over the first night. I have a penchant for bubble baths when I'm traveling. The idea of unlimited hot water is very seductive to me. The only bathroom supplies provided was a tiny bar of soap and disposal bags for sanitary napkins. Travelodge UK puts a lot of emphasis on no frills, so guests who agree to stay there regardless would be unreasonable to complain when they don't receive them.

As with most people who cross the pond, no matter which direction they come from, the first big cultural challenge I had was figuring out how to use the plumbing. It's amazing how something so simple can confuse intelligent people. I examined the spigot on the tub and had no problem starting the shower, but trying to run it for a bath was another thing. Finally, I went down to the lobby to ask for help and the young man followed me back to the room to show how the big knob in the center turned. I had thought that knob was just part of the spigot's decoration. It seemed the plumbing was more American when I worked there.


Living in room 141

All of the emphasis on saving money grew a bit thin after a while. The Travelodge UK website firmly states that it refrains from providing hairdryers or irons with boards in their rooms to save its guests money; however, they are available at the front desk on request. It was hard to see what the savings was at £85 per night. I benefited from the lodging's previous incarnations as a hairdryer was bolted to the wall next to the sink vanity. It was an old-fashioned funky one where the air blasted through a hose, but it did work. With all of the rigmarole it took to go through doors, stairs, and outside to reach the front desk, I was relieved that at least they delivered the ironing board.

The bulb in the lamp on my nightstand was out when I first arrived in my room, but it was replaced efficiently enough when I complained. Despite the condition of the room, it was clean, but the sheets on my bed were never changed. Not that they needed to be, but it was something I've grown accostumed to from hotels and motels in the U.S. It was a practice I would later learn is common in the UK. When I left a nice tip for the maid she was more than willing to give me all the extra towels I wanted.

After the London bombings, I had acquired a Cingular mobile phone for my trip. My father had tried to talk me out of going altogether, so I figured if my parents could easily reach me they would be a little more relaxed about my journey. Although I had problems with the international roaming feature during my first week there, I had a solid three bars at the Travelodge and received calls from my British friends quite well with my UK sim card. The tricky part was having the right card installed when I received their calls.

What really irritated me more than any other place I stayed at during this UK visit was the fire alarm. I stayed for three nights and my sleep was interrupted for two of them. Since the room had no phone, I was unable to call the front desk to find out what was going on. The first time it happened, it was frightening. Presuming all of those extra doors that had been built into all of the corridors were fire safety precautions, it made me wonder if something happened there the management felt it had to have them. I pulled on some clothes and went down to reception to find out what was going on. I was told it was mistake, everything was just fine, and it wouldn't happen again. But it did two nights later. Why this mistake had to be made in the middle of the night is another question. I could forgive them for it happening once, but twice? I later learned the construction going on nearby was the source of it, so it shouldn't be a problem anymore.


Dining

The Covent Garden location is one that has a Bar Café. These generally offer a breakfast buffet, "breakfast bags," a fully licensed bar, and snacks and evening meals. I admit I never took advantage of this for snacks or supper, but they gave a 3-hour window for breakfast (7-10 a.m. on weekdays, 8-11 a.m. weekends), so I wandered down Saturday morning. One of the young ladies noticed me and immediately cried, "You didn't ask for the breakfast!"

"I thought you'd bill it to my room."

"We don't do that."

Okay. So I had to go to the front desk and plunk down my £6.50. With that formality out of the way, I picked up a plate and went to see what was on the hot tables. They had the makings of a full English breakfast. They offered scrambled eggs, bacon, British sausage, mushrooms, stewed tomatoes, baked beans, and potato patties, which looked very similar to McDonald's hash browns. In addition to the hot table, they also had breadstuffs, boxed cereals, fruit, and yogurt.

The quality was okay and it was all-you-can-eat, so no one could complain about portions. It was fresh and what was supposed to be hot was hot. The breakfast bags are another option for guests. For £4, the staff will deliver a bag with a banana, croissant, Kellogg’s cereal bowl with a spoon and milk, orange juice, and large cup for a guest to take away coffee or tea from his room.

Being London, though, no one is totally dependent on what food any lodging offers. There is a wide range of pubs and restaurants within walking distance. Running on nervous energy at the time, I found myself satisfied with the prepared sandwiches sold at the Sainsbury's across from the Holborn tube station. Seeing a chicken or tuna salad sandwich sprinkled with corn was the novelty I ran across on this trip.


The locale

Considering how convenient this location is to some of London's more popular attractions, I have wondered why the former Drury Lane Hotel was reduced to offering bargain lodging. The historic Theatre Royale Drury Lane, which was playing The Producers, is only a block or two away. Covent Garden is a short walk of a few blocks. It's also in close proximity to the British Museum and Leicester Square.

The underground system is so easy to use, however, it's hard for me to think of anything in London as not being local. It seems anyone walking its streets will find a tube station every other block. They're usually easier to locate than a public restroom. Apparently, the Covent Garden and Tottenham Court Road tube stations are also nearby, but I used the one at Holborn.


The bottom line

The Travelodge London Covent Garden has 153 rooms with ensuite bathrooms available to let. Rooms are basically no frills, but have television and electric tea kettles. Hairdryers and irons with boards are available on request. This location also has 32 parking spaces available on a first-come-first-served basis. In case there is overflow, the NCP on Museum Street has 24-hour parking available for a fee. As part of its no-frills policy, this place will neither hold luggage before a room is ready nor after a guest is checked out. A second reception area for this Travelodge is supposed to open this month. Maybe this will spare guests from having to go outside again like I did to reach my room. When the currency exchange showed on my Visa account, it translated to $149 per night.

Although I am sure there are worse hotels out there, knowing what this establishment once was is hard for me to forget. Being awakened by a false fire alarm two out of three of the nights I stayed there is also inexcusable and not having a direct line to the front desk further aggravated the issue. Even in a city that's as expensive to visit as San Francisco, a comparable accommodation would be at least half off what I paid for this one and some of those would include a small fridge and microwave in the deal. If a budget rate is important to a traveler, there has to be better in London. Many folks insist on an ensuite bathroom, but personally I would give that up if price is so critical. My recommendation is Travelodge London Covent Garden is not worth more than £50 per night. I've stayed at B&Bs that were better deals.



Recommended: No

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