The Grand Eastbourne
A few years ago I was a naughty, very naughty girl.
I was reviewing an up-market trattoria in Chelsea. I had arrived late and was the only diner left.
The manager Federico offered me a complimentary grappa and one became three. My marriage was going through a difficult time and as I told my girlfriends then and now you I was wondering if I would ever get ‘it’ again.
Federico positioned his leg next to mine.
I was initially so startled that I spilled the residue of my Villa Antonori Gran Riserva on my Max Mara jacket.
However I did not move my leg.
When the Super Tuscan suggested we went upstairs to the flat above the restaurant I did not demur and we spent an afternoon of – I would not call it making love – but I would term it passionate sex.
Husband Olly took the jacket to the dry cleaners.
As they do they cleared the pocket and he discovered the bill with ti amo (I love you) scribbled on it.
This led to a unholy row.
He threw me out.
I was unsure where to go and decided on the Grand at Eastbourne. When the receptionist took my credit card for prepayment it was refused (Olly had cancelled the whole lot) but I had the cash. I burst into tears and she could not have been more obliging or considerate.
I have loved the hotel ever since.
When I that weekend tramped Beachy Head suicidal thoughts came to me, but happily Olly and I resolved our problems. When we looked for a luxurious retreat from lockdown we decided to go there and arrived yesterday.
The suite was disappointing.
The furnishing was not Times/Gplan sixties but certainly passé.
There was a nice welcoming touch of a small decanter of sherry and fruit but no bathrobes.
It lacked luxury through we did have a fine view over the sea.
It also had that bane of 70s hotels interior decoration – no central lighting.
Fine now with long days but not so good in winter.
The windows were too small and there were no pictures.
There was also something unobliging about the staff. The lift was shut in my face, there was no power point for my mobile and they had no charger in reception to give me.
The maitre’d was brusque in refusing us a table overlooking the sea in the Garden restaurant.
Not all of this is explicable by Covid.
The dinner of avocado and fresh salmon timbale, rack of lamb in Merlot jus and English cheese was fine but no gastronomic triumph.
The cost was equivalent to a London deluxe hotel so I could not complain about this.
However in preserving their traditions of Grandeur they need to up their game.