I'm not one to knock Liverpool
but talking about the Adelphi earlier reminded me of my one and only night in this "once great city" lol
I had been at BNFL Sellafield for 2 days, and had arranged to meet someone on my way back - having driven 6 hours to get to BNFL the morning before I didn't fancy another one quite yet. Being a man of great class I asked to be booked into something close to a top quality hotel - and the Adelphi was, you could see a top quality hotel from the steps outside
Brimming with luminous green neutrons I left Sellafield later than I had hoped, and was a little worried all the way to Liverpool that I might not arrive on time. Getting closer I was on the phone to Mrs Scunner and overtook a 'flat capper' in Aintree, only to get flashed by a speed camera. Luckily, someone must have nicked the film (I can't imagine such behaviour in Liverpool) as it never came to anything. I was on 9 points at that time and didn't know it would not find me, so it was another annoying little event in my day.
I arrived at the Adelphi, not when I had hoped but not so late that I couldn't check in, shower change and out.
I recall wondering where you parked. I found a side street, but was rather concerned by the pavement finish, a rather uniform "Cortina crystal" twinkled up in the twilight. A nice gent saw me and came over. "Don't leave it there pal" he shouted. "It won't be there tomorrow". He told me to go round the block and park in the underground car park, which I did. Nice guy.
So now I am getting late.
Went into the Adelphi and my first impressions were mixed. Incredible original features, not preserved but never bothered to update. Brass clad original lifts. Magnificent really.
I approached the crappy little reception desk, where I appeared to be lucky - one guy being served by one woman. As things unfolded, he was some poor sod sent to pick up a cheque for whatever service his company gave to the hotel. He wasn't doing very well.
I stood for 5-10 minutes, as my chances of getting to my room, ready and out in time receded with every second. Finally, I noted that there was one of those vertical one way stripy mirror things, like in banks of the old days, where at least 4 or 5 staff were enjoying splendid Scouse humour and banter with each other. This was too much, and the normally mild mannered Scunner asked the one working member of staff if just one of them could find a moment in their busy social life to actually check in a poor guest who had wasted 10 minutes of his life listening to reasons why this great hotel couldn't raise a cheque for the guy next to me for £50 for the bog rolls his company supplied.
Well, she didn't say a word, look at me or anything, just went behind the mirror screen and I guess asked for the biggest, uneducated old bag present to go and sort me out.
"NAME?"
"Erm...Campbell"
[Flick flick flick, a reservation with my name on it is found, and slapped in front of me]
"Sign there"
[Signed]
"How are you going to pay?"
"Credit card"
[A hand extends in a "well give me it" style"]
My credit card is taken, run through a machine, then a key arrives on the counter, overarm.
"You still have my credit card"
No word of a lie, she picked up my credit card, I held out my hand, she extended hers with my card in hand, moved it 6" to the side, and dropped it on the counter.
The Indian wasn't an Indian, it was Bangladeshi I think, but bloody marvellous.
Thanks Liverpool
Scunner
