Falcon Inn

We booked one night by phone while visiting the area, £140 for a twin room for my sister and me. We were told there was no kitchen at the moment, so they’d left cereal and milk in the room. I assumed they were renovating the kitchen, but it felt more like the place was being allowed to run down. There was an old fridge with milk inside, but it was so loud you’d need to switch it off to sleep. The towels looked clean, though the shower clearly needed a deep clean. The woman behind the bar spoke so fast as she unloaded a lot of instructions that we could barely hear her. She didn’t smile or even say hello. When we got to the room, it was a mess. The floor and bathroom were dirty, and I had to brush stuff off the sheets. The two beds were pushed together like a double, which my sister and I are far too old to share just to save money. The TV wasn’t connected, so we sorted it out ourselves. There was even a can of fly spray on the table. The place was old and tired, with scratched, patchy bedside tables, odd ‘art’ on the walls and a kettle so dirty outside that we didn’t bother using it. We were only there for ten minutes before leaving. A lovely pub around the corner told us the Falcon was the worst place to stay and said the owner was letting it go downhill. If I were the poor woman downstairs, I’d probably be monosyllabic too. We drove home after dinner instead of staying, luckily it was only a couple of hours away. What was meant to be a nostalgic day out was cut short because the room was so awful we couldn’t even try to sleep in it.