Staying in pubs, the customer expects a comfy bed, wi-fi, an en suite bathroom with a shower and “products” – that’s little plastic capsules all full of the same grunge labelled shampoo, conditioner, and shower gel; most places, more or less, deliver.
An exception is Greene King. In their pubs they lay on free wi-fi but, as a matter of policy, don’t extend the signal to the bedrooms. Their ploy worked perfectly. I sat in the bar with a pint of Guinness to access the Internet and write to you. I wrote a letter to the FT about this which I’d like to share.
“Reading your Fast Lane columnist writing about hotels I realise that I live on a different autobahn, shall I call it Cheap Lane. When I check into a hotel I am not besieged by the manager and bellhops crowding around me. I go to Reception and ask for the “free wi-fi” code. Those two words can mean a number of things. First, the hotel has free wi-fi but it is not working; secondly, that there is free wi-fi in the immediate vicinity of Reception but you must pay for connectivity in your room; thirdly, there is a free connection in your room but the signal is weak; fourthly, there is a splendid connection but only for one device and protected by a long password which must be entered on every log in; fifthly, there is wi-fi but it isn’t free. If this list applied to “free hot water” in a hotel, it would go out of business.”
That was what I wrote at the end of 2014. Now connectivity, even staying in a pub, is taken for granted but Greene King are rather stingey. In all other respects The Farmyard Inn was highly satisfactory and almost all of this came down to the good humour of Susie, the proprietress. This disseminated itself to all her staff who were pretty much run off their feet but always had big smiles. There is a Channel 4 programme called Four in a Bed on which she and her pub are scheduled to feature and I expect her to come out of it well.
Our last day was every bit as good as the previous two. We had seen lots of traces of the mining industry but today there were stone circles, standing stones and a rock feature called Robin Hood’s Stride. As it happens, one of our party is called, as Christian names, Robin Hood so the picture of him is appropriate. His wife demurred at featuring as Maid Marion.
The Peak District National Park seems remote and rural; in fact it is surrounded by the conurbations of Leeds, Sheffield, Manchester and Derby. So there’s at least one good reason to re-locate to the Chancellor’s beloved Northern Powerhouse.
