Value Score No Data
Good For Solo
A Toilet Tale Which May Amuse
I lived and worked in this hotel for a season many years ago when it was owned by the Thistle Hotel group. It has since been taken over by the tour and hotel group Shearings and so I can't comment on such things as current staff, rooms etc. It is though set in a perfect location in the centre of the village and the back garden overlooks the spectacularly scenic Lynmouth Bay.
The way the rooms are set out means that some have great views, others look out over the village's main street and others have no view at all, facing into the central light well.
Even though I can't provide up-to-date information I do have a little tale to tell from my time there and thought this would be as good a place as any to share it.
The Toilet Tale
During my season here they accommodated me in one of the hotel rooms, obviously not one of the better ones but rather one looking out into the light well. The room was OK tho' - spacious and comfortable with en-suite facilites.
I usually finished work about 9 pm in the evenings and having changed and scrubbed would head nightly down to the Crown Hotel for an odd beer or two - purely for wind-down purposes of course. One particular night I'd had maybe one or two more than one or two and gotten back to my room in the very early hours. The auto-pilot was on and I'd duly stripped and gotten into bed, having been sufficiently compos mentos to switch the light off before doing so.
About 4 in the morning I'd woken with an almost painful pressure on my bladder. Stumbling out of bed in the dark I'd headed for the en-suite bathroom, opened the door and dick in hand headed straight for where the bowl should be.
Oooops - it was only as I heard the door click closed behind me that I realised that I wasn't in the bathroom at all but instead in the corridor outside my room - stark naked, with the only thing in my hands being the aforementioned appendage.
The pressure on my bladder was by now becoming insufferable and needed immediate release. Although I'd never had to use it I had vague memory that there was a WC on the corridor just down from my room - it was behind one of the doors that wouldn't have a number on it.
By now I was having to physically pinch the pipe (as it were) to prevent pissing myself. Stumbling down the corridor, bouncing off the walls enroute, I found the unmarked door. I opened it, fumbled for the light switch, and just as I was about to take aim realised that I wasn't in the toilet after all but rather the laundry store cupboard.
It was too late - the flow had started and the only option I had was to grab a stack of towels with which to absorb things. Oh the relief was positively divine and I'd sort of started to sober up. The towels were a sodden mass but fortunately I'd managed to keep things contained and so there was no puddly mess. I bundled these up and put them in the dirty laundry basket - fortunately it was "beer ***" and so relatively colourless which meant that it wouldn't be too obvious.
My next dilemna was that I was still stark naked and locked out of my hotel room - but that was easily solveable: I merely wrapped a clean towel round my waist and headed downstairs to borrow the master key from the night porter.
On arrival at reception there was no sign of the night porter and dinging the bell brought no response. It so happened that I knew where the master keys were hung and so helped myself, took them upstairs and let myself back into my room.
Mission accomplished I sat on the edge of my bed and lit a celebratory cigarette. Although clear-headed I was still relatively drunk aand must have dozed off (having extinguished the cigarette) because next thing I knew my alarm was going off, telling me it was time to get to work.
That's when I noticed the bunch of keys on my bedside table and remembered my early morning excursion. Oh Dear! When I got downstairs there was a bit of a panic going on - one of the waiters told me that they were searching the hotel because the night guy had lost the master keys.
"That'll be these ones then."
I went into the office slightly sheepishly and "fessed up" - it's a good job that our manager and I got along well and that he had a sense of humour.
Caused a bit of hysterics too that evening when I related my tale down at The Crown.
Directions: In the village centre.
Caters for the coach trade & 70+age group
We didn't realise that the Valley Of Rocks Hotel caters for the coach trade and the 70 plus age group.
Lynton and more so Lynmouth is very nice, very pictureque with stunning scenery and a dramatic coastline and we were hopeing to have a great time at the Valley Of Rocks Hotel.
The hotel, well the room were ok nothing to shout about ...dated and tired decor, the staff seemed in too much hurry, the hotel seems to only worry about the real oldies - bingo was on the cards most nights nothing for the slightly middle aged.
Its a real shame because it looks like it could really a nice place if they spent alot of money and did a complete refurbishment.
Unique Quality: Caterers for the coach trade
Specialises in the over 70's market
Directions: Lynton town centre next to church
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