Larging it in London
I had just got my 1st yearly bonus, and me and the now wife had been going out for about 3 months. My plan had been to take us off to london town for a weekend, as a treat off the back of the bit extra cash.

The bonus however was much bigger than I'd ever dreamt and it just so happened to be the same month I got my insurance payouts for whiplash and a wrecked car, so I was almost fucking Scrooge McDuck-ing it. For the 1st and only time in my life, I wasnt worried about cash.

I decided to book us into the Millenium Mayfair instead of the budgety hotels we'd been looking at together. It was a surprise to her as i hadnt said where until we turned up and we had a great time. We'd never been anywhere like it and it was nice to feel a little posh coming from the bleak northern shores of Newcastle....

Now I must add that my knowledge of london was based almost purely on a monopoly board, Mayfair is obviously the nicest and old kent road the worstest.

+++++++++++++

The year after I got my 2nd bonus, a fair bit lower but still a very nice enough amount for another treat to london. This time, I applied my monopoly theory and booked us a night in the Sofitel St James (Park Lane).

The nightly rate was eye watering (somewhere around £300/400), so I booked us in for the saturday night and as we were travelling most of Friday I booked us a night in the (Sl)easyhotel Victoria for about £20. We ended up in the pub across the road and found a kebab place and took it back to our room, sorry i mean dungeon. It was below ground, no window and fucking awful. The room was honking off the reconstituted meat and I still hadnt told her that we were moving off in the morning, never mind where to.

The next day I packed up a very confused gf and we trotted off to find our new hotel. She was gobsmacked when I showed her where we were staying and it was simply out of our universe never mind world. I tried my best to look dignified when we checked in and our bags were took up to the room by the bell boy. My only knowledge of these was from Home Alone 2, and wasnt sure if he was going to stand in the door rubbing his fingers but he was lovely and soon scampered off.

After a days exploring we got smarted up and went for a nice meal somewhere. Heading back to the hotel I suggested a few drinks at the bar. The menu had no beer on, and feeling far too common to ask I just ordered a cocktail and the missus asked for a "vespa martini".

The drinks came and it was only now I noticed a few on another table being served pints, fuck I couldve had one of those instead of this thing with a little orange fruit thing hanging on it. The missus took one sip of hers and couldnt drink it, it was like drinking ethanol... nearly blew my head off never mind hers. The bill was discretely left and i took a quick shufty and nearly died, £45 for the 2 drinks.

Inside I was crying but my bravado won the day and I had to just notch it up to "if you have to ask the price, you cant afford it". It was a great trip though, even if i did feel like a massive fraud
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Thu 28 Jul 2011, 16:48, 8 replies)

I can relate to feeling like a massive fraud.
I'm from a council estate in Wigan. Everytime I go in to a hotel that is more than £100 a night I feel like they're going to kick me out.

Good story and very well told. Click!
( Evil Bastardo, Thu 28 Jul 2011, 17:18, closed)

haha glad to hear its not just me
i even put my phone voice on so they wouldnt think i was some northern ruffian, curbed my swears and evrythin
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 9:11, closed)

Vespa's are an acquired taste.
Though one I've yet to acquire and I'm an alcoholic single-malt lover who enjoys neat absinth.
I'd recommend a decent Manhattan instead.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Thu 28 Jul 2011, 17:41, closed)

it was lethal
my missus was already fairly tipsy off the wine we had during the meal. watching her teeter up the lobby to the toilets in her huge red heels was classic....

I think I could only order one again so show someone exactly how strong it was.
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 9:15, closed)

The company I used to work for put us up in hotels for courses
The head office was in central London, so all courses were held there.

We could only stay in 'approved' hotels. The room rate was typically 100-200 quid which usually got you a smallish room in a Holiday Inn.
We were absolutely not allowed to book cheaper (but just as adequate) hotels.
( thistle, Thu 28 Jul 2011, 18:14, closed)

You get a click for almost fucking Scrooge McDuck-ing it!

(impossibly witty twat No, YOUR Mum etc etc, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 10:22, closed)

Sofitel, St. James
Last time I stayed there I had dinner at the adjoining Roux Brasserie one evening. Just over from us was a very well dressed businessman with the aura of serious money about him, sitting at a table for two with the most obviously manly transvestite that I've ever seen.

Strange times....
( Hunter Stockton was murdered by a bicycle wielding axolotl,.,.,.,., Fri 29 Jul 2011, 11:55, closed)

rich people are wierd
is it really fancy in there though, or am i just easily pleased?

i look back and its all a bit of a blur.... i just remember a man bringing a foldy table of food to our room in the morning
(Monkeystrumpet monkey. Monkey, MONKEY!!!, Fri 29 Jul 2011, 12:06, closed)