Hellish hotels and other horrors

Mosquito nets would have come in handy for some Herald Travel readers who found themselves staying in insect-infested rooms. Photo / Supplied

In June this year we booked a great place in the Gold Coast. Wow! The photos looked great, rich greenery, nice pool, rooms looked superb, nice balconies.

It took us an hour to travel from the Brisbane airport to the coast but we were feeling really excited about our holiday. We arrived at 9pm. We struggled from the basement up to ground level as there were no lifts, [unlocked] the door and there she stood in all her glory: an old apartment with one window in the main living room offering views of an overgrown garden; a dirty carpet; broken couch; rust in the fridge; the jug contaminated with goodness knows what.

I said to my husband - by this time not a happy man - "I will deal with this tomorrow." Tomorrow came and we pulled the drapes back in the bedroom to enjoy a beautiful view of a gravel car park.

Still, I kept my chin up and made my way to the bathroom, to be greeted with peeling paint and grime. After a shower, I reached for my hair dryer to be welcomed by a cockroach. That was the icing on the cake.

"Pack up," I said to my husband. "Let's get out of here."

- Belinda Burborough

Whilst living in London, a friend and I decided to spend a Bank Holiday weekend in Torquay. We found a promising looking B&B on the internet and attempted to make a booking. They were full but the kind proprietor recommended another B&B around the corner.

On arriving in Torquay after a horrible journey on an overcrowded train, we reached our destination. We were ushered up a steep flight of stairs to our room which, true to our booking, did have twin beds. It also had four bunks. We were left wondering if we were going to wake up in the morning with a few extra companions.

The bathroom was just big enough for me and I squashed myself with difficulty into the shower cubicle. However, my diminutive companion was not tall enough to see herself in the mirror, which I managed by standing on tip-toe. There was no soap or toilet paper at all.

A large streetlight shone brightly through the inadequate curtains all night.

In the morning we had a look around for the dining room. This did not exist. Instead, on the stair landing was a bench with several packets of cornflakes, a few bowls and spoons (no chairs or table). A small fridge under the bench contained milk and, of all things, a large trifle. We opted to walk to the village for breakfast.

As everything else was booked out, we had to stay for the next two nights. During that time we didn't see the proprietor at all, but when we went to leave she popped her head out of her door asking if everything was OK. Coward that I am, I didn't say what I really thought, but I did write it in their visitors' book...