Premier Inn vs. Travelodge?

Travelodge v Premier Inn: battle of the budget hotels

I swear I read this Times article a lot more recently than two years ago. But given how time apparently starts to gallop in middle age, who knows. I have a Times subscription so I’ve no idea if it’s paywalled. A recent stay in a Travelodge after a gap of a few years brought it to mind.

The Travelodge logo

The Travelodge reviewer in the Times article stayed in a ‘Super’ room at the Travelodge London City, itself billed as a ‘flagship’ Travelodge. The Travelodge PLUS programme, of which the London City hotel is evidently part, was launched in 2018 and features the Super Room category and a new Bar Café concept. I’ve never stayed in one. Unless there are a lot of them, they’re a bit of a suspect comparison – it would be fairer to compare a “regular” Travelodge with a regular PI.

The Premier Inn logo

The Premier Inn reviewer in the article stayed at the Worcester City Centre branch (one that Ruth and I have stayed in; it overlooks the cricket ground), and notes the addition of Premier Plus rooms, as well as the chain's London-based ‘Hub by Premier Inn’ outlets (I stayed in one of these in 2021 - unbelievably tiny room but nice and amazingly high-tech bed). Premier Inns are slightly more expensive than Travelodges and generally have a dining option, whether this is an integrated restaurant or an arrangement with a pub/restaurant next door. Travelodges were originally on A-roads or motorways, and therefore pretty much always had a Little Chef or a motorway service station next door, so I guess the ‘dining option’ thing was kind of catered for; the newer ones in town centres don't have dining options, or at least I didn't think they did, but the introduction of the Bar Cafés in some is presumably an attempt to be more competitive with PI.

Bed at the Hub by Premier Inn London Soho

Since the advent of Premier Inns I rarely stay in Travelodges, as they now seem slightly shabby in comparison. However, I do have a nostalgic fondness for the earlier days of Travelodges and can still remember how lovely, clean and modern they seemed when I first stayed in them.

History and ownership

Travelodge has had a chequered ownership. It was originally owned by Trusthouse Forte, then bought by Granada in the 1990s. Ownership passed to Compass Group in 2001, then to Permira in 2003, and then to Dubai International Capital, a UAE-based company, in 2006. Since 2012 it’s been owned by Goldman Sachs and various hedge funds. Premier Inn has always been owned by Whitbread, though it’s only been called that since 2007; Whitbread established it as “Travel Inn” in 1987.

The excellent Motorway Services Online has some interesting stuff on the history of Travelodge. They were originally Forte Travelodge and I remember them forming part of Forte’s comfortingly reassuring collection of graded hotels, with Travelodge being the most basic, then Posthouse, Crest and Grand, in order of splendour. I never stayed in a Grand; I did stay in a Crest once, in Exeter, and I remember staying in at least a couple of Posthouses. Travelodge grew out of Little Chef Lodge, which MSO notes was the UK’s first budget hotel chain; this was owned by Forte and became Forte Travelodge in 1988, merging with a US-brand TraveLodge. MSO note that "many Forte Travelodge customers were 'trading up' from the less desirable accommodation they would normally stay in".

Me outside a Forte Posthouse in Hampstead in 1995

Prior to the more recent Travelodge PLUS upgrade, an earlier modernisation programme completed in late 2015 which gave Travelodges a makeover from their original branding. My extended Travelodge stay in 2014 - see below - was during the modernisation period, as some of the hotels I stayed at had been modernised (Old Stratford, MK Central) while others (Buckingham, Marston Moretaine, Shenley Church End) hadn’t.

My early Travelodge forays

I first came across Travelodges in the early 1990s when I was in my early twenties and they seemed to me an absolutely wonderful alternative to the B&Bs or cheap hotels which were my alternatives at the time. Then, they seemed to be mainly beside dual carriageways; they seem to have moved more into city centres since. I may be being over-nostalgic but I have more of a fondness for the roadside motel-ethos of the original type.

I think I first stayed in a Travelodge with Ray in 1992 – we had been part of an organized 18 Plus holiday to the Haven park at Caister, but made our escape after a couple of nights (I’d been the previous year, and rapidly realized that once had been enough) and went to visit Cambridge. We phoned the nearest Travelodge – on an A-road somewhere on the outskirts of the city, from memory – and as I recall were disappointed to find it booked up for that night. It had availability the following night, so we booked it, and sucked up staying in a cheap B&B that night, which, true to its type, had a shaky-looking shower in the corner of the room (presumably thereby enabling it to claim ensuite facilities) and various handwritten notices stuck around the room. The only one I remember was telling us not to throw condoms down the toilet, but there were probably others telling us not to speak, leave our pants on the floor, etc.

Ray and I were sufficiently taken with Travelodges to subsequently take a whole week’s holiday travelling around the country and staying in different ones. I can’t find any photographs from this trip, though it seems unlikely that I didn’t take any as I did own a camera at the time. Who knows. I can’t definitively remember all the hotels we stayed in, though I think we started the trip by driving up the A1 to Scotch Corner and staying in the Travelodge there, before working our way back down the country.

The Travelodge Year

Much more recently, I found myself unexpectedly staying in Travelodges for a good portion of 2014, following the burglary at my first rented MK flat around the end of 2013. Because of the burglary I didn’t initially feel inclined to rent another flat and dithered a bit about what to do. My head of unit at the time did not like staff working from home (oh, sweet irony) meaning that my modest request to work from home one day a week on a temporary basis to save on hotel bills met with a “No”. I think originally I only intended the Travelodge arrangement to be for a month or so, but it stretched to most of the year until I cracked and took out my tenancy at Wolverton Park in early 2015.

Although the Travelodge thing was OK initially, it rapidly became fairly depressing, in part because in order to make the four nights a week thing affordable, I was often obliged to stay at the OK but moderately drab pre-refurb Buckingham hotel, which still had old style branding, chunky grey CRT TVs and an offputtingly musty smell in more than one of the ground floor rooms. Also, I think that regular existence in hotel rooms, as opposed to the odd stay as I do now, can give you a sense of a little too much anonymity. The post-refurb Old Stratford hotel was much nicer and I did book in there as often as I could. The also-post-refurb MK Central hotel near the railway station was generally more expensive and I only stayed there for the odd night.

A room at the Buckingham Travelodge in March 2014

A room at the MK Central Travelodge, also in March 2014

Although I’m being a bit rude about the Buckingham hotel – it was the one I stayed in most and I was moderately depressed for much of the time - I did encounter a couple of worse ones. I ruled out the Shenley Church End establishment early on after only a couple of stays. That was a dreary former Innkeepers Lodge that hadn’t then even been updated to Travelodge’s old branding, never mind their new branding – the rooms didn’t seem Travelodgey, too much dark wood and I have a feeling they might even have had actual keys to the doors. I remember on one of the stays being given a room that didn’t lock and having to go back to reception to say “um, no” – it can’t have been fully booked (perhaps unsurprisingly) so they did re-allocate me to a different one. (On the other hand, they did at least have modern-style TVs in the rooms, which I had forgotten until I revisited the photo below.) Judging by their current entry on Travelodge's website, the hotel has now been refurbed. Sadly too late to rescue it in my eyes though. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.¹

The Travelodge Shenley Church End

A room at the Travelodge Shenley Church End in February 2014

I also once stayed in the Marston Moretaine hotel just off the A421 on the east side of MK, which was also pretty awful - I was initially given a room that stank of cigarette smoke, despite the hotel’s allegedly no-smoking policy, and I remember leading the guy on reception through the equally faggy-smelling corridor to my room so that he could smell it. I think he said something non-committal, but did give me a different room at a fresher end of the building. The one upside of the MM hotel was that at the time it still had a Little Chef next door, as these opened early and gave you somewhere to get breakfast (something that was a challenge all the way through the Travelodge Year). I remember having a quite OK cafetiere of coffee and some passable French toast.

View from my room at the Travelodge Marston Moretaine in June 2014

The LC has presumably gone now, as I think they all have. I do remember Little Chefs quite fondly; they were OK. I remember having a number of their “Early Starter” breakfasts in younger years. Strangely enough there was a piece on the BBC News website about them only this week.

While I was staying at the Buckingham Travelodge, the former Little Chef building was boarded up the entire time (probably adding to the faintly depressing air) but has now been freshened up into a Starbucks. I don’t particularly like Starbucks but much better to have the building back in use.

Some 'just add water' fodder, of the type I was often reduced to during the Travelodge Year:

More disturbingly, I also found this picture from 2014, with what looks like a Travelodgey backdrop. I don't remember often drinking über-budget wine, but perhaps I did.

Recent post-COVID times and Premier Inn use

Since working from home, moving back to Reading and the opening up of society again, I have been travelling up to MK every 2-3 weeks to spend a couple of days working on campus, to remind myself that I do actually have an employer (not that the regular Teams meetings and pay packet aren’t also a reminder of this, but you know).

Requiring overnight accommodation for a night every two weeks, as opposed to four nights a week, obviously affords much more choice of where you stay, with the result that I’ve been opting for Premier Inns pretty much every time. Milton Keynes has at least four Premier Inns which, if you book them a reasonable distance ahead and on the right night of the week (Tuesday: not great; Thursday: great) are very reasonable. I’m often able to book a “Premier Plus” room for only around the £60 mark. As the Times piece says, this gets you complimentary “Ultimate” Wifi (though actually PI’s free wifi is not too bad), an armchair with a footstool, a mini-fridge containing bottled water, a Nespresso machine and a piece of artwork with an artists’s label (albeit the one in the photo below was called 'Untitled'²). You do also, as Liz Edwards says in the Times article above, get to approach them down a better-smelling corridor, with a DIFFERENT CARPET from the regular room corridor. Perhaps it’s sprayed with special “posh corridor” smell.

Here are some soothing pictures of a Premier Plus room I stayed in recently at Milton Keynes' Willen Lake hotel.

'Untitled' by Gemma

Extra large shower

As a footnote, having said that thing about opting for PIs almost every time: with an eye to economy I have once tried out the Travelodge at the MK Hub (OK, but a yucky carpet), and a few weeks ago elected to return to the MK Central Travelodge, as I’d thought this one was quite an OK one during my Travelodge Year. It is indeed OK, but not as nice as a PI. I booked something called a “Standard Plus” room, thinking this might be comparable to the PI “Premier Plus” offering, but on arrival the room looked exactly as I remember them looking when I’d last stayed there 10 years previously. I did take in that there was a coffee machine and quite a selection of tea/coffee/hot chocolate options. On checking out the following morning, I asked the woman at the reception desk (it was staffed, unlike when I’d arrived when I’d had to wait quite a while for anyone to come along and check me in) what exactly it was that had made my room Standard Plus. Her response: “It’s got a coffee machine in it. And hot chocolate.” I made an unconvincing appreciative noise and thanked her, but I think she then lobbed at my retreating back “And a new chair!”. I was sceptical on this last point as the small chair in the corner of the room was the style that had been put in at the time of Travelodge’s refurb in the 2010s, but wasn't going to argue.

The Standard Plus tray of stuff

¹ Acknowledgement: Mr Darcy
² Why do artists do this? If you're going to go to the effort of painting something, might as well title it while you're at it.

MK meanderings; farewell to Barbara; new flat

Finding myself with a free day in MK a few weeks ago, finally ventured into Buddies Diner, next to the Old Stratford Travelodge, for a late second breakfast (as ranted about previously, they don’t actually open at breakfast time). Their coffee is of the jug on a hot plate variety and arrived in an over-large cup with a free refill. I ordered pancakes and bacon, which were perfectly nice but was coerced into ordering a seemingly obligatory potato product in addition, so ended up with a pile of entirely unwanted hash browns on the plate. Who can actually eat that much? I did see two women sitting near me being served with a vast breakfast each though, plus a plate of hash browns on the side, so perhaps some people can.

After leaving Buddies, took a head-clearing walk from the Travelodge through Stony Stratford Nature Reserve and past Wolverton Mill. Encountered the Iron Trunk Aqueduct, and bravely scurried through the narrow and claustrophobic tunnel under the canal (referred to in this blog post) to join the canal towpath, which I then followed into Wolverton and then back to Stony along Stratford Road. This last section was a bit of a slog, one of those where you realize you’ve actually had enough of walking, but have no other way of returning to the point you started from. Doubtless good exercise though. I saw a heron early on in the walk, and asked its opinion on my housing crisis, but it didn’t volunteer much.

Last Friday was Barbara’s funeral service at St Mark’s Crescent Methodist Church in Maidenhead. Barbara wasn’t a regular attender at church services but had apparently visited the church quite often as some of the groups she was involved in met there. Arrived early and met Barbara’s friend Doreen in the car park, whom I’d met briefly some years ago when Mum, Ray and I met up with her and Barbara at the Courtyard Theatre in Hereford while they were attending the Three Choirs Festival. The service was nice and Ray gave a lovely tribute to Barbara. The second hymn, For the Beauty of the Earth, was slightly embarrassing as hardly anyone seemed to know it – I have a vague memory of having heard it before but it isn’t a very memorable tune.

After the service, we had to make our way across town to the committal at Braywick Cemetery, where Barbara's parents, as well as both Ray's sets of grandparents, are buried. Thankfully, as it saved me the drive, Ray gave me and his cousin Michael a lift; lane closures in Maidenhead town centre resulted in us cutting in in front of the hearse, which led Ray to contemplate whether he’d shown sacrilegious disrespect. The committal was a mercifully brief ceremony as it was becoming dank and cold by that time. Afterwards we made our way back to the Clarks’ house in Lancaster Road for food and drink. Although I had been determined to attend the funeral to pay my respects to Barbara, I’d been somewhat apprehensive at meeting Ray’s family again as, apart from Barbara, I hadn’t seen any of them for around seven years, though I had sent Ray Sr and Carol a long-overdue New Year note following Barbara’s death. As it happened they were all lovely and I ended up staying at the house and chatting for around three hours.
Caroline's daughter Kirsty was playing Minecraft during the get-together at the house, which led to a bit of discussion. Have just watched a beginners' tutorial on YouTube, but can't say I'm really tempted. Seems to be quite a bit of work involved, what with having to gather wood to build yourself shelter, etc.

An inch or so of snow on Monday night - it had pretty much all melted by midday on Tuesday though.

Big news is that I have, for better or worse, taken out another tenancy in MK. After going backwards and forwards as to the pros and cons, and viewing various flats which for one reason and another I didn’t take, and missing out on several I phoned about because apparently there’s such a rush on rental properties at the moment, managed to get to be first in the queue on a two-bed with a balcony in the Wolverton Park development next to Wolverton railway station. I don’t need two bedrooms, but one-beds appeared to be at a premium and Ruth and I had agreed that we could just about cope with upping the amount we were willing to pay just a bit. I had seen and liked the look of the development when walking the canal path with Ray in March 2012. Wolverton is MK’s northernmost suburb and definitively out of walking distance of the OU, but that matters less now I’m more familiar with the town; am intending to continue with the bus/walk combo.

Checked into the flat yesterday so am now in possession of the keys, though don’t actually move in until Friday, when Ruth has efficiently sorted man with van to carry the stuff I’m bringing. Feels slightly farcical to be carting stuff back up here when I carted it all back home to Reading a year ago, but am determinedly not pondering that.

'Tis the end of the year, etc

Various discussions recently have led to my considering taking out another flat in Milton Keynes, though ONLY FOR ANOTHER SIX MONTHS. Really. Because by that point, everything will be crystal clear re what to do moving forward re residence situ. As I find myself unable to face the remainder of the winter in Travelodges given impossibility of preparing hot food in the evenings, and (perhaps feebly) can’t face either lodgings or a room in a shared house, it seems currently the only option given Ruth’s continuing lukewarm attitude to moving to MK. Viewed five flats the week before last, four of which were perfectly nice, but have not taken one as yet, partly because dithering over locations. Have two more viewings booked for Monday 5 January so will see what those yield.

Had our Information Office Christmas lunch on Thursday 18 December, at The Black Horse at Great Linford. Turned out to be considerably more enjoyable than the previous two, perhaps partly because the recently-retired Nick came along and bought three bottles of wine for the table. Nick appeared in a good humour despite having been recently diagnosed with coeliac disease and severe anaemia. An amusing time was had with some cracker innards, leading to both Guy and Andy crawling under the table at one point though I forget quite why. Service was a bit sluggish but food wasn’t bad.

‘Broke up’ from work for Christmas at midday on 23 December. Went into Reading in the evening and dined at Chennai Dosa, an Indian restaurant opposite the library that I’d never been to before, apparently part of a chain. The place had a slight air of being about to close down: there was a paper sign on the door stating that it was not accepting card payments; the tandoor was not working rendering half the menu unavailable, and half the restaurant had not been laid and had the chairs stacked on the tables. Having said that, the food was very nice when it arrived, though Ruth’s Chilli Chicken was too hot for her. I had the Palak Mutton which was offputtingly green but very tasty. We didn’t have one of the dosa dishes (apparently an Indian crepe, and presumably the chain’s speciality) though did see others eating them. Picture pinched from this article in the local press from earlier this year when the restaurant was the target of a swoop by immigration officials.

After dinner we went for a swift drink at the Wynford, currently about Reading’s sole gay venue, and then made our way along Kennetside to The Jolly Anglers to join Claire and others of her friends for a Christmas music evening/singalong. In fact, to my relief, it wasn’t as much of a singalong as Claire had implied, with a group rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas being about the only thing we were expected to join in on. The musician, Laurie, played both guitar and piano and Claire and another friend of hers sang.

Ray came round for an early breakfast on Christmas Eve before heading off for a couple of hours work and then over to Emma 2’s. Ruth and I set off mid-morning for her parents’ home in Norfolk, and, despite the best efforts of my car to turn off towards Center Parcs at Elveden, we arrived at I think around 2:30pm, having stopped at Birchanger Green services for a brief lunch on the way. Wood Farm looked about as dilapidated, certainly on the outside, as when I last saw it (which was the last time we went there for Christmas, in 2010) although a new kitchen is apparently due to be fitted soon. There were eight of us for lunch on Christmas Day, including the four friends of Mrs Millard who came on the last occasion we spent Christmas there.

Re Center Parcs: my colleague Jill has gone to Center Parcs with her family for Christmas. I am not at all envious. A new one has recently opened quite near Milton Keynes.

On Boxing Day morning Ruth and I drove out to Thetford Forest and followed a couple of its marked trails to make a welcome walk of 4 miles or so. We returned to Wood Farm for lunch in the company of Lucy, a dietician friend of Mrs Millard’s from her time working in the NHS. Spent the afternoon reading Five Get Into a Fix, as part of scheme to ease myself gently back into regular reading with some undemanding material, while Ruth and her mother went through some of Granny Box’s old diaries and other documents. We returned to Caversham on the non-motorway route via Milton Keynes on Saturday.

Lydia

Pets corner: Harley had another teeth-rasping operation a week or so ago, from which he appears to have recovered well. Willow is still adorable, still destructive and slightly less smelly than she was, although still seems to have something of a matted rear end. My parents' remaining cat Lydia has, as noted previously, become friendlier and more forthcoming since the death of Emrys, suggesting that a dominance hierarchy may have existed previously, unsurprising given Emrys’ tetchy temperament. I gather she is now much more willing to come into the sitting room of an evening and be friendly. She is, however, wary of little Nia, which is unfortunate given Nia’s keenness to befriend her.

Came down to Abergavenny on Monday morning, where I still am. Family get-together for lunch at Mum and Dad’s on Monday, followed by opening of more presents. Nia appeared pleased with her Mr Tumble outfit and accompanying spotty bag, and with this blackboard/whiteboard combination easel, which she did her best to play a part in assembling. Yesterday was initially very cold and foggy, but we still ventured out to Belgrave Park to attempt to tire Nia on some play equipment.

Went into Hereford with Mum this morning and breakfasted at Diego's, next to the former Left Bank Complex, sadly still empty. Walking from the cafe to the library, we received a shock on casually glancing into an estate agent's window to see a prominent ad for Annedd Bach, Michaelchurch Escley, for £425,000. So the chap who bought it from Mum and Dad has in fact barely owned it for a year. Hoping that it's bought by someone who actually wants to live in it this time.

Contract news; visiting; wealth

Remarkably good news at the end of June that my fixed-term contract is to be replaced with a permanent (or, more correctly, ‘open-ended’) contract from 1 August. Although I knew this was possibly on the cards, I had been told not to get my hopes up given that there has been a moratorium on the creation of new permanent posts for the past few years. My colleagues Guy and Young Claire, two other fixed-termers who’ve been in the unit a few years, were also included in the good news. To celebrate, I bought this OU mug to accompany my Friday pain au chocolat from The Hub.

Travelodges continue. Had my first week at the Bedford Marston Moretaine hotel a few weeks ago, a traditionally-placed Travelodge next to a dual carriageway and surrounded by little else other than a garage forecourt and a Little Chef. I wasn’t sure if Little Chefs were still in business, but evidently some are. In fairness to them, they do open at 7am, which is useful; I had breakfast there one of the days I was there and was served with quite a passable cafetiere of coffee and French toast.

Have been vaguely worried that the staff at the various hotels I stay at might be recognizing me by now, but had been trying not to think about it. Illusions were dashed while staying at the Buckingham hotel the other week and hearing the receptionist call out “Emma!” as I passed the reception desk. One day I shall look back on all this and laugh. Or chronicle it in some surprise bestseller.

Had a long weekend the first weekend in July at Dave and Hazel’s Saturday afternoon and night, and then on to my parents’ house for Sunday through to Tuesday. Surprisingly fine weather in Newport on the Saturday; we were able to walk to their local park and watch Nia run about and have a bit of a go on the playground equipment. She appears to be developing into a gung-ho sort of little girl which is all to the good. Dave cooked a characteristically good dinner on the Saturday night.

We were diverted on the way there via the old Severn Bridge, carrying what used to be the M4 during my childhood but is now the M48. While crossing it, Ruth – who hadn’t been across it before – commented at the much better view compared to the new bridge, due to the protective barriers along each side of the new bridge, presumably erected to improve wind resistance and stop the bridge frequently having to close in blustery weather. I’d probably sacrifice a good view to reduce my chances of being blown clean off the bridge.

While browsing Wikipedia, have just found out about the Severn Railway Bridge, which I don’t think I ever knew about. How fascinating.

On the Sunday we drove up to Abergavenny and I presented Mum with my (finally) typed draft of the 48 letters written by her to my aunt and grandmother during our stay in Indonesia from 1978 to 1980. I left her with instructions to read it and choose appropriate photographs, while I am now browsing Blurb and other similar ‘make your own book’ sites. On the Monday we went out for a walk northwards along the Gavenny River and under the A465, past Tredilion Park and up New Court Lane to the Court Cupboard Craft Gallery cafe. Pleasant enough spot, though the café was staffed by a woman who didn’t seem prepared to actually receive any punters – I tried to order an iced water but was told they didn’t have any ice, despite its being a warm day; Ruth tried to order one of their advertised cold drinks only to be told they hadn’t put any Cokes in the fridge; she was reduced to asking what exactly they had in the fridge; the hostess rootled around and found a Tango, so she took that. I was a bit irritated, as well as extremely hot, by this point, so threw a KitKat into the mix and scoffed half of that.

Non-provision of ice, and indeed non-chilling of drinks, is one of the occasional things that really annoys me about my countrymen. It’s getting better – in any town bar you’ll get a lavish portion of ice with a drink, but in some more traditional pubs and cafes, not only ice but even chilling the drinks appears to be considered some sort of optional extra, or perhaps some foreign abomination. Indeed, my father, admirable in other ways, refuses to chill lager and comments on my ‘Australian’ tastes in beer whenever I have occasionally been known to shove a couple of his lagers into the freezer an hour before I want to drink them. Perhaps it’s an age thing – at my lunch last Sunday with Barbara – see below – B laid great emphasis to the waiter that her elderflower cordial was to come with No Ice. This despite the warmth of the day and the fact that we had been sitting outside the pub in somewhat uncomfortable heat for half an hour, as we’d arrived too early.

Returning to the walk: the rain set in on the way back, but Ruth took this picture of my parents and me to preserve the moment. In the evening we went for a nice dinner at Plas Derwen, the hotel further up the Monmouth Road that several of us have booked into for my parents' upcoming Golden Wedding party at the end of August.

My parents’ other cat Lydia appears to have blossomed somewhat since the passing of Emrys, and according to them she appears much friendlier and more relaxed. She remains, however, a tad rotund. Amused to hear from Mum that there is now a special clinic at their vets for overweight pets. Imagining Lydia being subjected to a motivational lecture before being weighed in front of a sympathetic gathering of other fat cats.

Dad has recently, with Dave’s help, filled in the pond that they inherited with the house, part of his master plan to make space for a small lawn. Being a sentimental type I was a bit worried about the fate of the wildlife that was probably making a home in the pond. Highly amused though to receive the following in an email from Mum the next day:

We sneaked out last evening with a frog and a newt from our ex-pond and rehomed them in a lovely pond down on the river meadows. I hope they settle in and make friends. There was another frog but he must have escaped overnight.

I was left with an image of my parents clad all in black with balaclavas, sneaking down the road in the dead of night carrying an assortment of small amphibians. Nice that the creatures have (hopefully) been re-homed though.

Went over to Maidenhead on Sunday for the first time in ages, to take Ray's 'Auntie' Barbara out for lunch. Barbara is in fact not Ray's aunt but his father's cousin, but has always lived near his parents' home so seems to reckon as a closer part of the family than the relationship perhaps implies. She and I always got along well and indeed I always looked on her as something of a role model; Barbara is a retired medical secretary who  has never married nor had children, but has kept up an impressively active life involved in any number of groups and committees, including the National Council of Women. I hadn't seen her in at least a year, but it struck me there was no reason I couldn't visit her sans Ray, and luckily she seemed to leap at the suggestion. B is now in her eighties and appeared frailer than when I last saw her, and I got the impression her confidence to get out and about has been dented by deteriorating eyesight coupled with a fall she had a few months back. Despite this, her voice is as strong as ever and her hearing seemed fine (nothing worse than having to bellow into elderly people's ears) and we had a good catch up. After lunch at The Golden Ball at Pinkneys Green (evidently a popular Sunday lunch spot) she showed me round her somewhat overgrown garden and made me tea in her apparently freshly-tidied living room. I was pleased to see she's relocated her living room to one of the rooms at the front of the house, as it was much lighter and sunnier than the somewhat dingy room at the back that we always used to sit in.

More local news: no idea this tunnel existed, but opening it to the public sounds like a good idea. Also, took this pic a month or so ago of this impressive new set of steps in front of Reading station, part of the amazingly comprehensive overhaul the station is having. The developers have evidently gone ahead with the 'sinking' of Station Hill that was attracting controversy a few years ago. In fact, technically, it's not really sinking but restoring it to its original level as the road was evidently balanced on stilts over a void - wonder how it was ever designed this way? Intriguing.

Amused after closing an Intelligent Finance savings jar recently to receive a cheque for some unpaid interest. I guess small amounts mount up.

Willow; moths; inept photography; RIP Emrys

Willow, far from being less destructive than Lexie, is borderline worse, certainly as regards the furniture – she is so far less offended by shoes than Lexie was. Given access to the living room she will jump up onto the chairs at every opportunity and start munching. She is, though, also the friendliest rabbit we have yet encountered, pushing her head up into our hands to be stroked and jumping up onto the sofa and climbing all over our laps (albeit often while also trying to nibble clothing and the picnic blanket that currently covers Ruth’s mauled sofa). Feebly, we are so taken with her on this account that there is no question of returning her to the rescue centre, so we will just have to try to take whatever action possible to protect the furniture.

Ruth had a sort out and prune of her wardrobe the other week, which inspired me to have a sort through mine, though I lack her discipline and am still keeping a number of items of clothing that don’t currently fit me, in the optimistic hope that they might once I’ve shed that couple of stone that I’m going to lose any day now. I did though put a number of things on the charity/rag pile, including this pair of size 12 white jeans that I have owned for over 20 years, but which have only fitted me for probably about 3 of them altogether – they have always been my benchmark for whether I was at my (in my eyes) ideal weight, but I was persuaded that it was ridiculous to keep them.

Took a couple of more or less unworn skirts back to MK with me to advertise on the OU noticeboard, and have successfully sold both of them; one of them a frumpy Country Casuals just-below-the-knee number that I still didn’t feel quite old enough to wear (though actually the woman I sold it to was quite a bit younger), the other a short cream number from Zara, which was quite ludicrously marked XL but is a 12 at the largest – Zara is one of those shops best not shopped in if you’re over this size. I don’t think it quite fitted me in the shop so Christ knows why I bought it. Sold that one yesterday morning to a bubbly woman named Jenny who seemed delighted with it.

Managed to miss spotting Ed Miliband at the OU the other week, though Victoria did return to the office excitedly after getting her morning latte saying she’d seen him. I did though do my bit by pointing out that the intranet people had spelled his name wrong in the original piece. Well, it’s not hard to get these things right.

Moth-related emails from both of my parents over the last month, the one from Mum about the oak processionary moth, which has apparently been causing a kerfuffle in the Thames Valley area. Some aerial spraying of local woodland has been taking place, though this has apparently been condemned by wildlife groups – indeed, it’s hard to see how that sort of action wouldn’t kill other things besides the moth. A more recent BBC Berkshire article seems to claim that it has been responsible for a decline in blue tit numbers by depriving them of an important food source. B*stards. Received a photo from Dad a few days later of a pair of mating poplar hawk moths. They are indeed striking in appearance, but I have been vaguely squeamish about moths since the offputtingly large ones that we used to see in Indonesia years ago, though I don’t know what type those were. Perhaps these beauties?

Ruth and I went a few weeks ago to view the proposed redevelopment plans for Caversham’s precinct (officially known as St Martin’s Centre, according to the article, though I’ve never heard it referred to as such). The plans look very nice on the whole, though it seems to me a shame that it would apparently necessitate the removal of the mature trees that currently occupy the paved area between Costa and House of Cards (they are cunningly referred to in the Reading Post article linked above as ‘the existing non-native trees’ – aha, drum up support for their removal by making them sound like foreigners). Fully supportive of the proposed extension to Waitrose though – and relieved that there appear to be no plans to move the supermarket out of Caversham to a larger site, as is often the way these days – and the proposed revamp of the car park couldn’t hurt. After viewing the plans we went for dinner at Casa Roma, the latest in a line of restaurants to occupy the space on Caversham Road opposite TGI Fridays. Although it was a large brightly lit space and not very atmospheric – though the garishly kitsch artworks are endearing in a way – we were impressed with the food – we both ordered seafood dishes which came with a generous amount of actual seafood, not always the case – and with the staff.

Ray visited me during the last week in May while I was staying at the Buckingham Travelodge, and we went for dinner at Prego, an Italian restaurant on Buckingham’s High Street and rather the sort of place I wish we had in Caversham. Ray has managed to acquire a Land Rover Discovery from his friend Darren at the marina, which I was a bit stunned by although he appears mightily pleased with it.

Finally managed to overcome previous problems in trying to take out a new phone contract, and am now enjoying my new Galaxy S4. The whole ‘life companion’ bit is pretty corny, but its 13-megapixel camera does appear to take great pictures – better than those from my actual camera, a few-years-old Sony Cyber-shot with a piffling 8.1 megapixels. However, working out how to use it isn’t immediately straightforward, and the Dual Shot facility – which I couldn’t work out how to get out of at one point – seems irritatingly pointless. This is a facility which superimposes your own face in a postage-stamp-type frame over the main photo, as per this one, which I took accidentally in Mum's kitchen while trying to switch the wretched facility off. Am in agreement with this review, which describes it as “hilariously daft”.


The process of getting the new camera led to some more chat sessions with Vodafone, which are always fun.

While staying with Mum and Dad a few weeks ago Mum and I went to explore the lovely Gliffaes Tree Walk at the four-star Gliffaes Country House Hotel - the house is a bit of a monstrosity but the setting is beautiful. Could fancy the idea of a short break there, if the rooms weren't £200+ a night. Would have been a beautiful spot to take a few pictures, especially as the rhododendrons were just finishing, but I couldn’t get the phone’s camera to work – managed to unintentionally shoot a short video of Mum’s foot before getting it stuck again on the Dual Shot facility (evidence right).

Briefly cheered last Friday by thought of solution to housing crisis, but it was short-lived. My colleague Lizzie appeared at my office door asking if I’d seen the ad on the intranet for an apartment sublet in Woburn Sands, at a seemingly extremely reasonable £450 a month. I did duly express interest and drove over at lunchtime to meet the tenant, a swarthy German postdoc called Andy, and view the flat. Flat very nice, though my suspicions were slightly aroused by the sound of the parking arrangements, and the fact that both Andy and the owner of the flat would still want to sleep there for some of the time. I met the owner on campus that same afternoon, a young chap called Sam working on contract as a web developer. Very pleasant and laid-back, but I inferred quickly that Andy was in fact his lodger not his tenant (amazed at the number of people who don’t seem to know the difference) and that Sam, albeit claiming to spend most of his time with his girlfriend in France, evidently does spend a certain amount of time at the flat. Decided I wasn’t after a flat-share with a twenty-something, so bowed out, after having interrupted a fair portion of my Friday looking into it. TIRESOME.

Received news from Dad this morning that their now-elderly ginger cat Emrys has died. Mum got Emrys from the RSPCA sometime around 1999-2000, as I have this photo (left) in my collection labelled ‘Milly and Emrys 2000’. I believe he was thought to be possibly a couple of years old at the time of adoption, and had apparently been found wandering loose around Hereford. Emrys had, it has to be said, a somewhat spiky edge to his personality and was never a cat with whom one could let one’s guard down. Having said that, in later years he appeared to have become (slightly) more placid and enjoyed sitting on Mum’s or Dad’s laps – and indeed, often in their spot on the sofas while one or other of them sat on the floor. Also posting what must be one of the last photos of him, taken about a month ago lying on his mat.

Rabbit exchange; further Travelodgery; retreat

Change of rabbits. Ruth and I made the sad decision that Lexie was a bit too much of a handful for us, given that we have limited time to spend in an intensive pet training regime and were unsure whether she would benefit anyway, so returned her to Reading Rabbit Rescue on the Saturday of the Easter weekend. Sandra was nice enough to make sympathetic noises and to assure us that pets are meant to enhance your life and Ruth had to be happy with her choice. Here’s a parting shot of Lexie with my Ugg boots – she expressed a violent dislike of all my shoes during the time she was with us.

Some discussion ensued about a possible alternative choice to try with Harley, and Sandra’s front runner was either Willow, a dwarf lop close to Harley’s age or Cherry, the long-term resident whom we viewed before at the time Ruth chose Lexie. Partly influenced by a desire to give Cherry a home, we decided to give her a go – however, Sandra later emailed us to say, somewhat cryptically, that they’d quickly realized Cherry wasn’t the right companion for Harley. It later turned out that the allegedly timid Cherry’s favoured technique during bonding attempts is to ignore the male for the first 15 minutes while pretending to eat hay, then viciously attack him. We inferred that she has done the same thing on a number of previous occasions, though Sandra wasn’t too explicit about that. Ruth and I theorized that she may be quite happy at RRR and it could be a deliberate strategy she’s developed in order to ensure that no one adopts her.

After Harley’s swift removal from Cherry’s proximity, S&S tried him with Willow. The first update noted that he was quite wary of her and there’d been quite a bit of chasing – indeed, we were sent this photo of Harley taking refuge under a box. However, we gathered that things had gone acceptably well, and we collected both Willow and Harley on the following Saturday, after Ruth had spent a day converting our cupboard under the stairs into a new bunny residence. Mightily pleased to have a dining room free of the unattractive cage and litter tray. Ruth is not enjoying cleaning out the cupboard with its awkwardly sloping ceiling, but no doubt she’ll adjust to the stooping involved. Willow appears a friendly bunny and we are quite taken with her so far, though not sure of Harley's opinion. She is very fond of the outdoors, probably because her previous owner apparently kept her loose in the garden.

Tried out a new Travelodge the week before last, this time the Old Stratford branch on a junction with the A5 north-west of Milton Keynes. Back there this week. Small place but like the Central has undergone a recent refurb to Travelodge’s ‘new look’, so pleasantly new-smelling with a great bed. Old Stratford seems to be a long line of houses either side of Towcester Road, with a couple of pubs and a convenience store. The long straight walk from Old Stratford into the more attractive Stony Stratford forms part of the Roman road Watling Street.

Although the page on Travelodge's website shows a Little Chef next door to the Travelodge, it's now next door to a ‘Buddies USA Diner’, according to Judith a local Northamptonshire mini-chain of restaurants. Mildly annoyed by it as although it boasts a breakfast menu, it advertises its opening time as 10am, which to my mind isn’t much use to anyone for breakfast. As is the way of the modern world I took to Twitter to query this:

and received the following response:

Well, yes, I suppose you could open at 4pm and serve bacon and eggs, but I personally wouldn’t count that as opening for breakfast.

It wasn't a major issue as I am set up to prepare coffee and muesli in my room, providing there's somewhere nearby to buy a pint of milk, but it's just the principle of flaunting a breakfast menu in people's faces.

While I've had a Twitter account for a while, I've only made sporadic active use of it, partly because I haven't yet decided quite how I want to use it, and haven't expended the necessary energy to find out How It All Really Works. On a related note, I also have a LinkedIn profile which I more or less keep up to date, although I’m not a particularly active user of it. I enjoy the mild amusement value of occasionally receiving endorsements for various skills from people who hardly know me - this week, an endorsement for ‘Management’ and ‘Program Management’ (neither of which I consider myself to have any particular experience in) from a chap who used to work in the IT Unit at the OU, with whom I exchanged the occasional email although we never actually met. Quite bizarre. He’s good-looking, though, so I may stay connected for that reason alone.

On a cultural note: killed some time a few weeks ago by visting Old Thornborough Bridge, just off the A421 between Buckingham and Milton Keynes. The bridge dates from 1400 AD and is (according to the information board in the car park) the sole surviving medieval bridge in Bucks. The old bridge, a scheduled monument, no longer carries traffic; the current bridge carrying the A421 was built in 1974.

Day in Hungerford a couple of Sundays ago to meet Ruth's aunt for lunch. I roped Ruth into a pre-lunch walk across the Common and a little way along the back road to Kintbury, past the gates of the former Hungerford Park. I had had a vague idea that years ago we used to walk up the driveway between these gates, but on this occasion I couldn’t see any indication that it was a public footpath, so we walked a bit further on and took the footpath leading south through Foxley Covert, coming out on the little road that used to pass Inglewood Health Hydro, though I don’t think that exists any more. There are some pictures here of the former house at Hungerford Park. We met Ruth's aunt for lunch at The Bear, our second visit since the takeover by Old English Inns; although the snacky soup-type lunch we had on Ruth's birthday had been fine, the roasts we ordered on this occasion were distinctly disappointing, and certainly bore a very poor comparison to the divine roast beef lunch I had there a few years ago. I did email them afterwards finding fault with various specifics, and may leave a review in due course on TripAdvisor. However, Mrs Spence seemed to enjoy her lunch, and the glass of Chardonnay I had with it was very palatable.

Attended a one-day retreat last Saturday at the Global Retreat Centre at Nuneham Park. Have been on their mailing list for a while but not until now got around to attending any events. The Global Retreat Centre is run by the Brahma Kumaris World Spiritual University, a seemingly international organisation with centres in a number of countries. My reasons for going were a) I fancied a day of a bit of uplifting tranquillity with a bit of meditation thrown in; b) it was free; c) I was curious for a bit of a poke around the house and grounds. The house was built in the mid-eighteenth century as the home of the Harcourt family, who sold it to Oxford University in the 1950s. I gathered that the Global Retreat Centre was set up in about 1993.

The day was attended by around 60 of us and consisted of a morning session entitled ‘Knowing the Self’, led by a sixty-something chap called Matthew who apparently used to be a run-of-the-mill working man with wife, etc, before throwing it all in 20-odd years ago to become a volunteer at the Global Retreat Centre. Good in places, though too much talk and flipcharts for my taste and not enough meditation practice, even though the session was subtitled ‘Exploring and Developing the Art of Meditation’. Additionally, while there were some helpful ideas, there was a lot of stuff about the soul towards the end of the session, including some rather wacky stuff seeming to imply that your soul can potentially remember things from before you were born. Hmm. The afternoon session was titled ‘Spirituality in Daily Life’, but substantially consisted of getting the audience to recap the main points from the morning session. It was free, I suppose. Plus points: it was a lovely setting and a relaxing atmosphere; we got a free hour-long tour of the house after lunch and a chance to walk about the grounds. One woman I spoke to had apparently been for a residential retreat there, which I may consider at some point. I also met a Milton Keynes-based Mindfulness Teacher, who gave me her card.

Mildly curious as to how the Global Retreat Centre apparently manages to charge no fees for any of its courses. I’m not one to ponder such things at length, but Ruth did query how an organisation promoting a spiritual, unmaterialistic approach to life can afford the rent on an Oxfordshire country estate and an Oxford city centre shop unit. Something to do with karma perhaps. In fairness, although there was a box marked ‘Contributions’ in the reception area, with envelopes and gift aid forms, this was not referred to by any of the staff or speakers during the day, nor were we put under any pressure to contribute. I must confess I didn’t, though I did spend about £20 in the shop on a DVD and some incense.

A couple of notes on the route:

• The first section of the A4074 north of Caversham towards Oxford is a notorious accident blackspot, cheerily referred to in the local press as the ’13 Bends of Death’. Having said that I only saw a couple of people indulging in idiotic overtaking.  
• The village of Nuneham Courtenay presents a odd aspect, with rows of almost identical cottages ranked each side of the A4074. The explanation, apparently, is that in the 18th century the first Earl Harcourt had the village moved in its entirety from its original position closer to Nuneham House, and arranged either side of the main road to Oxford, apparently so that he could convert the site of the village to ornamental parkland. Seems a bit high-handed.

In an concerted attempt to take more exercise and get endorphins flowing, etc, I have been swimming at Bletchley Leisure Centre once a week for the last month, and for the last couple of weeks have been propelling myself out on the bike at weekends. Have done the same route each time so far, along the Henley Road to Playhatch, up (painfully up) to Dunsden, then wending back past All Saints Church to join Kiln Road back into Caversham. Have to say I do feel good afterwards, albeit slightly achey.

Sadly, the lovely Tash and her piano-playing partner have moved out of number 47, apparently to a smaller place on a quieter street. Very civilised to have the sound of a piano emanating from next door, even if it was the sound of someone having a lesson and struggling with a two-octave scale. They’re (I think) the third lot of tenants since Nicky returned to South Africa., I guess more will be moving in soon. Obviously we hope they’re quiet, childfree, fond of classical music and/or jazz, don’t have a car and are fond of looking after people’s pet rabbits. I live in hope.