Mon 29 Jan 2007
“Which room do you want?” asked my friend Amy.
We had arrived in the resort of Courchevel and had dragged our bags into the chalet that would be home to us for the next seven days.
“I don’t mind”, I replied confirming my status as the most considerate person on the holiday.
I was pointed down the stairs to the last remaining room, in the basement. This caused a small red flag to appear in my mind. Basements are not generally nice places. They are where rats live, they flood, and they are where sociopathic killers keep people when they kidnap and torture them.
No happy story ever started with, “Well, I was in the basement and then….”
When I opened the room I was confronted with a room the size of an average family saloon. With no windows, and a pine bunk bed against the wall. I was contemplating the possibility that some horrible mistake had been made when I heard, “Bagsy the bottom bunk!” from my flatmate, who was just behind me.
Brilliant.
I dumped my bag, and headed back upstairs in order to get drunk on the complimentary booze. This free wine was a major contributing factor to my decision to go on the holiday, and now that I was sleeping on the top bunk, in a basement box room, I planned to drink my own body weight in vin rouge each and every day.
Finally the time came for everyone to go to bed, and I made my way gingerly down the stairs and into the basement room. Whilst climbing into the top bunk I noticed that the bunk bed had actually been constructed from balsa wood. Climbing the ladder almost pulled it down on me, even though I am built like a sportsman (not a darts player). I finally managed get on the top bunk and was greeted by the noise of scrunching plastic.
They had given me a fucking rubber coated mattress!!
I do not wet the bed. Not for a long long time anyway. But clearly the chalet owners are used to basement bed wetters, so I drifted off to a drunken sleep safe in the knowledge that any accidents would leave the mattress undamaged.
A lesson for you all, when a holiday deal appears to be too good to be true, check the fine print for mention of rubber mattresses and confined spaces.
22 Responses to “Room without a view”










January 29th, 2007 at 8:48 am
While you had trouble with the basement room im guessing amy had an en-suite 20′ by 20′ room with a balcony and a four poster.
January 29th, 2007 at 9:25 am
I wish I knew you better. It’s the only way this story could be funnier. Aside from you actually wetting the bed, of course.
January 29th, 2007 at 9:37 am
M.C. Glammer - I didn’t wet the bed, and I didn’t find it funny. The other seven did though.
All - I am back and in one piece! I am just about to catch up on all the work emails that have accumulated wilst I was away, then I will drop back into last week to read all the nice ‘have a great time’, and ‘hope you come back in one piece’ messages that I’m sure you all left.
January 29th, 2007 at 9:54 am
Don’t you just love holidays!!!! fortunately the drunken memories remain in the head for longest, i find
January 29th, 2007 at 11:27 am
If the chalet-owners are so used to basement bed-wetters that they felt it necessary to provide some ‘protection’, odds are pretty good that you’ve slept in a bed and possibly on a rubber sheet that people have taken a wee in/on.
Happy holidays.
January 29th, 2007 at 12:31 pm
Lots of early morning creaking then?
January 29th, 2007 at 1:33 pm
So the “crinkling mattress” would have given you away for the surepticious midnight w*nk, or was the reason for hitting the bar just an excuse not to flick one of the wrist?
January 29th, 2007 at 2:09 pm
JPT’s - The thought had crossed my mind…
greavsie - only in my joints greavsie, only in my joints.
Alan - If I didn’t know better, I’d say we knew each other.
January 29th, 2007 at 2:19 pm
Sounds like fun were you Snowboarding or skiing?
January 29th, 2007 at 2:52 pm
January 29th, 2007 at 3:17 pm
Did you get a complementary pack of Tena Lady and some wet wipes as well? I think that would have completed the gesture.
January 29th, 2007 at 4:16 pm
I have a friend who would love the rubber mattress. I don’t think I’ll say anymore about that though.
January 29th, 2007 at 4:47 pm
drunk punk - I think we’ve all got one of those ‘friends’. I don’t mean me though, for clarification.
January 29th, 2007 at 5:44 pm
So, Chalet, Bunk Beds, eight occupants and only one identified as female….
Does that make you Grumpy rather than Angry?
January 29th, 2007 at 5:45 pm
Well I did wonder, you know with your love of all things BMW..Snowboarding definitely the best way to get down a mountain.
January 29th, 2007 at 6:16 pm
Anytime. And just so you know, I have seen adverts. Otherwise I wouldn’t know what they were, either. Definitely.
January 29th, 2007 at 7:31 pm
Not the sort of holiday bunk up one hopes for.
January 30th, 2007 at 10:05 am
Angry -
The only time I have ever had a rubber matress was when I was on a skiing trip in France. Maybe it’s something to do with the altitude or simple mountain ways. Either way, I was not amused. Not enough to piss myself, anyway.
January 30th, 2007 at 11:56 am
So, any snow then, or was this an involuntary drinking holiday on a mountain?
January 30th, 2007 at 1:39 pm
Heather - I only wish I was better at it.
Léonie - Obviously, ahem…
billboy - absolutely not.
cliff - You weren’t in Courchevel 1850 were you?…
BoT - Oh yes, it dumped on Tue/Wed so the second half of the week was very much mountain bound.
January 30th, 2007 at 9:15 pm
Angry,
No, I was either in Megeve or Chamonix. Are you somehow saying this is my fault?
January 31st, 2007 at 11:35 pm
We stayed at a guest-house in France. Gorgeous! Farmhouse with flagstones - old cv in the garage complete with birds nesting in it - hilariously clichéd.
I had to share a bed with my ex-sister-in-law (non lesbian) and as I settled down to sleep I got a hefty waft of B.O.
I sniffed discreetly at my own arm pits (as you do!)
Nope.
I sniffed across at hers.
Nope.
Then I sniffed the sheets.
YUK!!!!!!
Sure enough - this gorge farmhouse had pit-stench on their sheets!
I also spoke French in Chamonix to a waitress - only to find we were both speaking French and she was from Scotland!!
We had to turn the sheets upside-down and no they didn’t smell of feet (thankyougod!)