Guest User
November 29, 2022
Arrived knackered in Burnham after backpacking from Weston in bad weather--not as straightforward a hike as I'd imagined. Night was falling; it was windy and raining full pelt; Burnham seafront looked grey, dead, and depressing. But soon as I turned down Regent Street and emerged opposite the Victoria, my spirits lifted, because the hotel, which is really a pub with rooms above it, was all lit up, with evidence of love and care in the decorations, plants, colourful chairs, and a heated outdoor shelter buzzing with drinkers. A friendly, lively staff member called Mandy checked me in; and the landlady took me upstairs personally and showed me the room. A single and a double bed, but no chair. Otherwise a small and clean room, low-ceiling, chipwood wallpaper, two windows looking out on a narrow street near the High Street, which runs parallel to the esplanade. Shops and cafes close by, as I found out the next morning. Hot shower, one of those curved ones. Couldn't work the heated towel rail out--a shame as I wanted to wash and dry some clothes. Too sheepish to go down and ask and look a twit. Every instinct cried out for sleep; but I wanted to eat, so went down to the pub and had a lasagne, served piping hot, with garlic ciabatta. The pub was busy, considering it was Thursday--one room for watching football; the other for eating and general drinking. Locals were friendly and chatted away to me, cheering me up. Several pints of Tribute glugged, so I slept like a log The Victoria was just right for me--fell on my feet there and no mistake.