What a howl at TIPTO
The sun was shining in Gillingham and, wafted in on a gentle breeze, there was Greta Stonestreet of Bales Worldwide bearing goodies for us all. Greta congratulated us on becoming Bales’s agency of the month – always a pleasant accolade – and had tied in her visit to us with attendance at the TIPTO Roadshow in Bournemouth.
Greta stayed at the Durley Hall Hotel for the event but told us that the hotel would be better named ‘Surly Hall’ in the light of the treatment she received there.
According to Greta, she was assigned a tiny, dark room that would have better housed an upright vacuum cleaner. It was airless and hot and, as Greta settled down for the night, she decided she’d have to open the window.
The window, however, opened on to the fire escape – granting access to any intruder who might care to see her in her nightie. The poor girl was therefore faced with a dilemma: spend the night hot or nervous. Of course, there are times when a hot and nervous night can be a very pleasurable thing, but this was not one of them.
Fortunately she survived the night, but while she was relieved not to have been disturbed by a passing vagrant, she felt curiously disappointed to discover that the Milk Tray man had not made it to her room with a half pound of chocolates.
Greta tells me that the TIPTO Roadshow was as much fun as ever and that the participants had enjoyed the compere and comedian, Tony Jo.
As part of his act, Tony imitates dogs. I know it’s unusual and we haven’t yet seen it on Britain’s Got Talent, but mark my words, dog impressionists are the unsung heroes of the variety world. The travel folk staying at the hotel could testify to the sport to be had from a good take-off of a golden retriever or Jack Russell, when Tony’s discreet barks had the staff checking frantically under the tables as the manager examined his health and safety policy.
French disconnection
I know the country’s going to the dogs, but I am still taken aback by the general level of ignorance demonstrated by some clients.
A young woman called in recently and asked for accommodation close to the Normandy Beaches.
Penny selected a few brochures and went into sales mode. The woman explained that the trip was to be a surprise for her boyfriend who was ‘really interested’ in the Normandy Beaches.
“They were in the war, weren’t they?” she said, adding: “We would normally go to Poole or Weston if we wanted to go to the beach, but I think we should have a change. So I came up with Cornwall.”
Penny looked at her quizzically and said: “You do know the Normandy Beaches are in France, not Cornwall?”
The woman’s face fell. “Oh. Really? Does that mean we’ll need passports?”
I bet she’s got a string of GCSEs and a handful of A-levels, too.
Credit crunch wipe out
While we’re on the subject of falling British standards, I found myself queueing for the loos at Waterloo station recently, in the company of some American women.
I overheard one of the women tell the other: “We need 30p to use the restroom.” “30p?” replied the second woman, “are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ve been here before and sometimes you don’t even get any paper for your money!”
Which goes to show that the credit crunch is surely biting and that, as usual, when it comes to service, the Americans leave us standing.
Pucker up and dial
And finally…when you are separated from your partner and your lips are dry from not kissing them, it’s time to get ‘cell-phone kissing’.
It’s all the rage in Japan thanks to the invention of the ‘Kiss Phone’, which features a pair of plastic sensor lips on the handset. Kiss the lips and the phone sends vibrations to your partner’s handset and reproduces the kiss when they press their lips to their phone. By all accounts, intensity and heat are conveyed too.
Since I struggle with simple functions (what does ‘predicative’ mean?) I’m going to stick to the face-to-face variety.
Maureen Hill works at Travel Angels, Gillingham, Dorset