I, Partridge - Alan Partridge [55]
141 I’d seen Gary Davies do this to a group of 10 air hostesses in a Travelodge near Luton in 1990. Next morning, he told me he’d later slept with every single one of them. [CHECK]
142 I know I’ve used this sentence twice in as many paragraphs but I do want to make the point that no, I wasn’t worried about being welcomed back into the fold.
143 ‘Is it me or is it hot in here??’ (if they were wearing a particularly revealing top) or ‘I’m going to have to report you two. You’re looking so lovely you’re distracting people from their work!’ (mock anger).
144 I wasn’t either.
145 Press play on Track 27.
Chapter 18
Linton Travel Tavern
NOT A LOT OF people know this, but in 1997 I spent 183 nights in a Travel Tavern. To the best of my knowledge this remains the fourth longest period of unbroken residency in a British hotel by any non-OAP.
Carol and her non-Gallic sex-chum had by now returned to my marital home, so I needed to get out. Awaiting news of a second series from the BBC while simultaneously needing to fulfil commitments to Radio Norwich, meant that Linton Travel Tavern seemed an obvious choice.
It was situated in the sweet spot between London and Norwich, the perineum between the two metropoles at the Eastern rump of England. To say that it was exactly equidistant between the two wouldn’t be quite true – that honour belongs to JCC Wholesale Butchers on the industrial estate behind Mount Pleasant Road. (And no, they won’t offer wholesale rates to passing members of the public.)
Now when you go long-term in a comfortable mid-range hotel, choice of room is paramount. This isn’t just a spot to lay your head for a couple of nights. This, my friends, is your house. So when I ended up with Room 28 I could not have been happier. Far enough from the centre of the corridor not to get piddled off by the incessant clickety-clack of the lift shaft, yet close enough to the fire exit to make it out alive if Al-Qaeda embarked on a repeat performance of their still-yet-to-happen American atrocity, albeit on a slightly smaller scale. Yes, if things went belly-up, it really was a beaut. And that’s before you’d looked out of the window …
‘Oh my god!’ I yelled at the top of my voice the first time I’d stopped to take in the vista. For a kick-off, no other room in the hotel could match it for unimpeded views of the A11. At any time of the day or night I could pull back my curtains and give you an accurate update on the traffic situation in either direction.146 Of course for a road-user such as myself this was manna from heaven. Never again would I be at the mercy of tailbacks. If I saw the traffic was slow moving I’d set off early. If not, at the normal time. It’s hard to put a price on that kind of up-to-the-minute intelligence. As it happened the traffic was never an issue for me (my show started at 4.30am), but that’s hardly the point.
One of the most special things about going native in a Travel Tavern was how well-designed the rooms were. Everything you needed was so close at hand. It was like all the best bits of living in a deluxe house but without the constant, endless hassle of having to move between rooms.
Think about it. Within that one bedroom you had a dining room (the bed), a lounge (the bed), a study (the desk), a meeting room (the bed and the desk), and even a gym (the gap between the bed and the wall). With a nightly routine consisting of press-ups, squat thrusts and shadow boxing, I don’t think I’ve ever been so fit, certainly not while staying in a hotel anyway.147
In my last year living with Carol, Anglian Water had (against my will) moved us from a flat rate on to a water meter. To be honest I think they took one look at how clean I liked to keep my car and just saw dollar signs. On the other hand they were moving everyone in the county on to water meters so perhaps it wasn’t a pre-mediated act of anti-Alanism. I guess we’ll never, ever know. When you’ve been at the top and