Bradford Apartments Flat 92

The room was in terrible shape, and I wouldn’t stay here again even if I were paid to. I can’t imagine choosing a place like this except out of desperation. The mattress felt like the cheapest I’ve ever slept on, and the sheets were thin. I dread to think what they’d look like under UV light. The wardrobe tops were thick with dust, and the walls had dirty scuffs and stains. Wallpaper was peeling, curtain rails were loose on one side, and there were screw holes stuffed with what looked like damp toilet paper. Someone had also pushed a washing-up sponge into the gap where a drainpipe entered the wall. There was a large black mould patch on the bathroom ceiling, apparently painted over several times. That wouldn’t fix the suspected cause, which I think may be a clogged, ineffective extractor fan. An electric radiator was hanging off the wall. It seemed to have been damaged before and just pushed back into place, and it pulled away again with the slightest touch. One window had been left open and wouldn’t close because its frame appeared damaged, so I had to sleep with it open and got cold. It also looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in many months. The stairwell smelled like clothes left damp in a washing machine for days. The hotel is on a dirty side street, below a steep hill, looking out onto an old mill-type building. There’s no reception. The front door was unlocked, and we were told our room key was under the mat outside. The place looked as if it were run by tramps.