The Gainsborough House Hotel, Kidderminster

 

Kidderminster - The Gainsborough House Hotel

Bewdley Hill, Kidderminster DY11 6BS

February  2022

 

I can’t remember how many times I’ve been to Kidderminster. My father and stepmother moved there nearly thirty years ago; he died in 2006, she last year. I’ve an inkling as to why they chose it as a place to retire; it's not everyone's idea of an ideal location to live out one’s final years, and I have to say I don’t find the town has much to offer, but I’m an executor of my stepmother's estate, so have to travel down there every few weeks at the moment, and took my partner with me. 

The closest hotel to the family property has always been the Gainsborough, on Bewdley Hill. I’ve stayed there before, three or four times perhaps, most recently though over ten years ago; it used to be such a welcoming place, with a good restaurant, weddings every weekend, and even what I could describe as a sexy atmosphere - down to the flirtatious and divorced aunt-of-the-bride in the bar who’s up for some fun with a man staying on his own. More recently, the more modern Premier Inn has been our choice in the town, but we thought we’d try the Gainsborough again for a recent visit. Following it, though, we’ll probably revert to the Premier Inn next time.

***

The hotel’s website warned that evening meals were not available at the time of our visit, but seemed to imply that breakfast was. Knowing the area a bit I wasn’t too worried about having to go out to find supper (even a bus or taxi over to Bewdley to go to ‘Spoons was an option) but breakfast was a selling point - we didn’t want to spend ages looking for food in the morning when we could be sorting out the business to be attended to.

We arrived bang on the time I’d suggested when I booked. The place was quiet. Very quiet, it had all the atmosphere of an undertaker’s in an empty town. It used to be busy, with a pleasant aroma emanating from the restaurant, and the function room and bar busy. None seemed to be in use now. Reception was manned seemingly by the only member of staff on duty - a middle aged suited man. I gave him our details and the formalities were performed. ‘We haven’t booked breakfast, we’d like it tomorrow please’, I asked. 

‘We don’t do breakfast’, came the reply. I was then handed a list of places where, apparently, we might be able to obtain dinner or breakfast. 

‘Not much of a hotel’, I thought. 

We made our way to our room, around the rather curious gloomy corridors that result from the way the hotel was extended perhaps forty years ago. Redecoration and better lighting would improve it significantly.  Breakfast, we decided, wouldn’t be too much of a problem; there's a Tesco mini-mart next door, at the Esso petrol station, and we opted to get instant porridge, juice and croissants there, which would fit the bill nicely. 

For what we were paying - £150 for two nights - the room was OK. The decor was unchanged (apart from fading somewhat) from the time I stayed there fifteen years ago. Faded indeed describes it well, the room we had wouldn’t be the place to take a prospective partner for a much-anticipated night of romance and passion. The atmosphere was decidedly cool, the heating having not been on, and the lighting was more up to a drunken night with someone you’d rather forget than facilitating the savouring of every visual and sensual moment with the lover of your dreams.  The walls and paintwork were past their best, stains had developed on the grouting of the tiled floor and around the hinge in the ensuite, and much of the gloss paint in the ensuite was not the colour it was when applied, obviously many years ago. 

The room did have plenty of storage, a full length mirror, iron and ironing board, and heating controls for the aircon/fan heater - these, however, we couldn’t work out how to operate. (A radiator would have been my preference.)  Also, from the window, we enjoyed only a view of the back of a wall: we could just about see over it into the car park, if we tried. There was half of a door chain on to provide security; the other half would have been useful. 

The ensuite did have a shaver socket - something that was common in the nineties, but often now seems to be left out (perhaps for cost reasons?) in hotel room design. There was, however, only a tiny bar of soap to meet the needs of the two of us for two nights. Fortunately, Tesco next door sold soap. There were only two towels for us; normally I’d expect a hand towel and bath towel each. Also lacking in the ensuite was any significant form of heating - it was February, after all, and a hook on which you might hang whatever clothing you needed to put to one side while you did whatever you had entered the ensuite to do. The thermostatic cartridge in the shower tap was obviously well past its best, not only was it barely possible to get a constant temperature from it, but also at the stop point (supposed to be set to body temperature) it dispensed only cold water.

One thing I did like in the ensuite was the heated mirror: as things steamed up in there, an area of the mirror behind the basin remained clear. It was a shame that whoever had fitted it hadn’t sealed the mirror edges with nail varnish (or similar) to stop condensation there getting to the silvering; but then, the whole bathroom is well due for a refit anyway. 

***

In the evening we found a few problems with the room. The lighting was, as seems often to be the case, quite poor; there were only dim, and not enough, lights to properly see what you’re looking at. The flatscreen TV was in a curious position: wall mounted, about three feet up from the floor, opposite the end of the bed. ‘They must have penny pinched on the cable and trunking when they fitted it’, I decided. The TV did, however, have a good range of digital channels - certainly all of the freeview ones I tried - and they seemed to be on the correct channel numbers.   

Our overnight experience was so-so, perhaps as you might expect for the price. The air heating made the air very dry, as a result neither of us slept that well. Turning the heating off resulted in it becoming quite cold, the thin duvet not being up to keeping us warm on a cool February night.

I didn’t see or hear much sign of other guests staying at the Gainsborough - no muffled voices coming from the corridor, sounds of ecstasy from a neighbouring room, car movements outside, or sounds of doors being closed in the morning. I did hear sounds suggesting a lone occupant was in the next room on our first night, but none on the second. A lack of customer presence usually indicates a business isn’t meeting customer expectations; ‘maybe’, I thought, ‘I am not the only person to feel the way I do about the place’. 

Overall, this stay at the Gainsborough wasn’t an experience I shall look back on fondly. It was in a period when the world was still rather obsessed with Covid, so some issues - like the signs everywhere asking you to wear a mask (why - when there’s no one else around?) are excusable. But it badly needs an injection of money, energy, and ideas. 

***

Unsurprisingly, I’ve heard this hotel is up for sale. There are no doubt reasons for this - many customers may feel like me, that they’d much rather stay at the Premier Inn in town. The new owners will either need deep pockets to do a complete refurb, and some good publicity, or have plans to convert it - perhaps to a care home. I don’t believe there is sufficient demand for this sort of hotel as it is in this area for the business to generate a profit. It's not a place that I can recommend until something is done with it.

I still have fond memories of that night with the aunt of the bride many years ago, by the way.