Hi Ho!

(please see setails and advise under “Note” throughout article)

Optimism dissipated immediately upon entering. The entire apartment was tiny — as in not-able-to-turn-around-without-hitting-something tiny, and shabby (not even shabby chic!). A living room, 2 side-by-side bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen and a patio with table and chairs. While the photos had not been a lie, they had been taken at such close range (which is all that there is) that we naturally assumed larger spaces surrounded each item.

Note: When renting, assume nothing! Have all your questions answered to your satisfaction.

The living room furniture — a dingy white loveseat and two squat chairs upholstered in gold velvet — shared the common theme of broken springs. The bathroom featured a tub with hand-held shower head and black mold growing in the corners, a small sink and a toilet scrunched against the wall, requiring side-saddle use. We had been left one roll of toilet paper. There was no soap, shampoo or any amenity. Cheap thin and stiff towels were drapped over radiators, no doubt left by the previous vacationers who, like us, had committed to a cleaning fee which was obviously never spent.

Each bedroom fit a queen-size bed with about six inches to spare on each of 3 sides. The linens were of charity shop quality. One bed felt like a futon atop a loose box spring, dense but do-able; the other was raw springs onto which one sank against the plywood box beneath. Jan and Rich, being good sports and not knowing what to expect, tried to insist they could sleep on it.  

The kitchen was adequate but, again, no basics — not even tea and sugar, the British mainstay! The small patio, perhaps the most-redeeming aspect, was littered in dead leaves. I called the landlord who happened to be in London (he and his wife, who own and brilliantly market a number of London flats, live part time in the Bahamas) and began my litany of complaints. Their motto is “We offer more than a set of keys and a flat; we offer personal help and service to ensure your stay is a success.”

His response to my concerns: No one has ever complained about that bed before. (Wow, I guess only vampires slept on it). What if I provided toiletries and they weren’t to your liking? (What if I flew 5,000 miles and just wanted a shower with soap and shampoo?). Basic kitchen supplies like tea and sugar: Well you wouldn’t want to attract ants between visitors, would you? The leaves and dirt covering the patio must have just happened in the last heavy rains. And didn’t he advertise it as “self catering?”  (What was I thinking have such huge expectations?) He assured me that the couple who had last stayed there “just loved it!” Surely, there must be something wrong with me and my group of malcontents.

To his credit, he and his wife delivered that day a laughably-named “heavenly” mattress cover from another flat they own nearby, and covered the box spings so Jan and Richard had a dense, futon-like bed on which to attempt to sleep. [Sleep, we discovered later, was further challenged by the bedrooms facing Holland Road. The double-glazed windows and storm glass had to be closed to shut out the din, making it necessary to leave the door open for air, and no privacy…which was the whole point of getting a 2-bedroom flat.]

He also bought us one small bar of soap and a hotel-sized bottle of shampoo along with directions to the local supermarket “just a 5-minute walk.” It was more like 15 minutes and by this time we were exhausted, aggravated and I was angry at the shoddy surroundings for which I had pre-paid by wire 800-pounds ($1,600!) for 4 nights. If I had any means of recouping my money, I would have ven forfeited the deposit and moved us to a suitable hotel.

NOTE: DO NOT EVER pay for a vacation rental by wire. If they do not take credit cards, or payment in cash upon arrival, do not deal with them!

In all his literature, everything was just a few minute’s walk away. For example, Kensington High Street Tube, he claimed, was a few minutes; it was at least 20 at a brisk walk. The nearest tube station, Kensington Olympia, was touted as “a one minute walk” when, in fact, it was at least five. The owners verifiably skewed sense of time is as perverse as their skewed sense of quality and cleanliness. I believe they sincerely wanted our stay to be a success, but their values and ours were worlds apart and I cannot see how, even at London’s insane prices, this would be considered anything but a rip-off.

Did I mention that instructions at the flat cautioned that the scalding hot water quickly ran out, requiring a squat in the tub for a quick rinse?

Rather than let this miserable flat ruin our vacation, we decided to laugh. What the heck? We were in London and had planned too long and come too far to not enjoy ourselves. Fortunately, this accommodation was by far the worst of the entire trip. (Although we narrowly escaped another in Rouen, France, that would have beaten this).

(article continues in next entry)