When checking out, Travelodge told me they might email me to ask me to complete a survey about mine and Alexa G's stay there. Er, how exactly? As I said to my travelling companion, how does one review something that does precisely what it says on the tin? And then I smacked myself in the face. I work for Yelp, what utter drivel am I talking? If I can review a statue or a telephone box, I can review a Travelodge.
Okay. Let's take it to task. It's the very definition of A-OK. I'd use it again, but I don't have the budget of a movie star. Would I use it if I had the budget of a movie star? Actually, yes. In a Travelodge you can make a cup of tea, sleep, watch TV, shower and be fairly comfortable. Not *amazingly* comfortable. You can't open the window. This is a terrible thing if you've had eleventy billion glasses of wine and your temperature's sky-rocketed and both of you are having epic fights with the duvet to get it as far away from you as possible. Is there actually a temperature control in the room? If there was, it was invisible. Or camouflaged against something. Or perhaps it was *in* the TV. Okay, I'll stop being facetious, there WASN'T one.
Temperature continued to be an issue when it came to the following morning's shower. It seemingly had no heat control, but Lex figured out that full blast meant hot, drip drop meant cold. What logic is that exactly? Still, once functioning it was perfectly pleasant and the towels were more than adequate. No toiletries whatsoever, but remember that this is budget. You might as well bring along lovely mini Burt's Bees bottles like I did and imagine luxury.
Reading Travelodge does the job, and location-wise it can't be beaten. If I'm ever lucky enough to be an extreme science groupie again, I'll certainly use it. read more