Wyn Drabble: A tale of two nights

This "décor" element caught Wyn Drabble's eye. Photo / Wyn Drabble

Recently I stayed two nights back-to-back in vastly different levels of accommodation.

One of them cost $x and the other – and here I need to ask the taxman/woman to pay careful attention because this expense was for the purpose of comparative investigative journalism – was roughly three times that amount (more if you count the valet parking).

According to the old adage, you get what you pay for. Well, at venue A, I certainly got what I paid for – cheap, clean and comfortable accommodation with absolutely no frills. No complaints. Some interesting observations, however.

First impression on driving in was of poor horticultural standards. Right along one side of the building there were weeds, some "as high as an elephant's eye". Of course, I didn't have an actual elephant with me so that's just a guesstimate.

It wouldn't have taken long for someone to put matters right but weed removal was obviously not a priority. I wouldn't be sleeping outside anyway and it was greenery, after all.

Inside, the strongest impact came from two "décor" elements. Yes, everybody's taste is personal and different so all I can do is try to describe them and you can decide whether they might be your cup of tea.

The artwork hanging slightly crookedly on the wall was unusual to say the least. I tried to straighten it but couldn't as it was sitting on two adjacent hooks the positioning of which had not involved a spirit level.

The dominant feature of this slightly-crooked oeuvre was – and this is not going to be easy – some sort of deer with antlers (caribou?). It was featured from the "waist" up and wore horn-rimmed spectacles and a pullover bearing geometric patterns. From this, we can assume the beast was feeling the cold and had eyesight issues.

At the base of the work were the words "Dear Hipster" but I can offer no explanation for this.

Wyn Drabble

I can only describe the second piece as a pile of three fake antique books on the front of which was located a rotary phone dial and on top of which sat a fake antique telephone receiver.

I mistook it for an ornament so picked it up for a bit of playful role-playing. "Hello. Room service, please," I acted. But it was live. It was a real phone and I hung up just in time before reception answered and dealt with my query.

No such works featured in the second venue. The décor had no elements which popped out and attracted attention so here they could probably learn something from venue A. Everything just sort of blended in.

The room was bigger and everything felt more solid somehow. There was a shower you could luxuriate in, far too many pillows you could wallow in, and harbour views to satisfy any aquaphile.

But was it perfect? Not quite. I start every day with very strong but milky coffees. In the fridge there were only four of those little pottles of long-life milk – not even enough for one decent milky coffee.

Unlike venue A's instant coffee powder, venue B had a coffee machine into which you put those little espresso canisters. Two troubles here: first there wasn't enough milk for one anyway; second, I'm too frightened to use one of those machines because, last time I did, I must have inserted the canister incorrectly.

There were serious grumbling sounds not unlike the beginnings of an earthquake and no liquid emerged. Fearing I had broken it, I quickly checked out and vanished.

So which would I choose? I'd cut my coat according to my cloth but it would be venue B if someone else were paying.