Why does anyone go to Folkestone? It’s an issue that this seaside town has been struggling with since the ferry port closed in 2000, killed by competition from its nearby neighbour, the Channel Tunnel. In recent years, a real effort has been made to promote the town as a destination, and as I will show in a couple of later reviews, it has managed to do so, with some amazing food, and the most beautifully reimagined “Harbour Arm” which has taken over the old Harbour Station where once you could step almost directly from the train onto a ferry (sounds magical, was in fact reasonably crap as you had to try to get a few hours’ sleep on a bucking boat!).

For us, it was less of a destination, more of a waypoint on our relentless journey around the English Coastal Path, but we do like to make sure that these stopovers are a treat, rather than a trial. There is a reason there is a “Y” in YHA: We are far too old to be slumming it… So we chose the #1 of Small Hotels in Folkestone according to TripAdvisor, and booked the top room, which was a pretty reasonable price of £165 a night, given it was the height of summer (as much as it ever is in August these days).

Should you end up staying here (and I am going to tell you now, don’t), parking is a nightmare. The instructions they give you don’t give an accurate account of the true horror of it. You can’t really even stop outside to drop off or pick up luggage, unless you are very lucky. Fortunately, the hotel does maintain two parking spots in a crescent round the corner, so if you are driving, book one for goodness’ sake. As we turned up at 10am to start our walk at a reasonable time, we were able to get a spot, but only after the poor chap on reception had been through every other booking to see if they had booked the parking: This was our first taste of the chaos that is the management of The Relish.

Our day of walking passed uneventfully, and we returned to pick up our key and check in. We were required to book a breakfast slot (formerly my most hated thing about hotels), but we were also required to book the contents of said breakfast (now my most hated thing about hotels). More on this later.

The room, on first glance was lovely.

But after a little while, a number of niggles set in. First off, why is the bed in the middle of the room. Maybe I am old-fashioned, but I actually like a table by my bed, so I can put a few things down overnight. I certainly don’t want a glass or bottle of water perched over my head (which is what ended up happening). On night 2, we moved the small tables from by the sofa, but then kept tripping over them.

The bathroom also looked rather nice, but suffered from an appalling drainage problem (no smell, but water seemed very reluctant to leave the sink), and the shower head sprayed water downwards in the traditional manner, but also upwards and all over the bathroom floor. It wasn’t that the head was not screwed on properly, it was just defective. You’d think that every time they clean you would notice this. And the storage was, as is so often the case, poor, with a couple of very narrow, downward sloping shelves.

The curtains, also, failed to meet at the top as a couple of loops had come down, which somewhat affected our ability to sleep (fortunately eye shades had been packed)

But overall, it was lovely, with a great view of the garden and the terrace (Again, more on that in a moment), and a comfortable bed.

Day 1 breakfast: Shambles? Too mild a word. I travel with a carefully curated mix of cereal which keeps this finely-tuned machine of a body in full working order. Frankly, it’s a pain in the arse (and almost got me arrested in Colombia as it looks like a brick of heroin), but age has taught me that there are some things that it is not worth compromising on. So, many hotel breakfasts are lost on me, as I mainly need a bowl, a spoon and some fresh milk. The Relish was only able to provide 2 of these, and I wish it has been the spoon or the bowl they couldn’t get right. Yes, dear reader, I took a bit mouthful of my branny, milky mix, and narrowly missed spitting it all over Mrs Nigel, who I don’t think will ever sit opposite me at breakfast ever again. It did not smell off, but it was absolutely one of the worst things I have ever ingested, and I had school dinners in the 70s.

I am not a brave chap, but I think this episode would have troubled many people. I went back to the room, and systematically scrubbed my teeth, mouth and anything else that had been in contact with the milk. I made Mrs Nigel try the tiniest bit, and she was repulsed. I managed to tell the poor young lady who was serving us that they had an issue on my flight up to the room, and she did replace the milk. I only had enough cereal for the 4 day walk (we moved on to Deal for the last 2 nights), which was annoying. But what was probably more annoying is that the cooked breakfast we had been forced to order arrived long before we had got through our first course. Mrs Nigel has been waiting for them to refill the yoghurt (she asked very nicely), but nonetheless her cheese egg pancake (billed as an omelette, but it really wasn’t), sat on the table to 10 minutes, and my bacon and sausage did the same. The sausage was crap anyway, but the bacon was ok, and would have been nice hot.

We retreated to our room. I was not feeling at all well at this point. The phone rang, and the delightful young man from reception was on the phone. “How nice,” I thought, “he is phoning to apologise for the breakfast fiasco”. No, in one of the most insensitive pieces of customer service ever (apart from “How did you enjoy the play, Mrs Lincoln”), he asked for our breakfast order for the next day. Fortunately for both of us, I was too weak to tell him how I felt about his request, and just said “No”, and put the phone down.

Our escape from the hotel on that day was timed to make sure no-one was at reception: We wanted a proper word about this breakfast issue, and it was not the time for it. And in the meantime, we had found out some very interesting information that we wanted to ponder on further…

One of our great resources for hotels over the years has been the Sawday’s Guide. We have a number littered about the house, and Mrs Nigel gives them money from time to time. Worth a look. The Relish appears in this guide. It used to be that the guide was made up of hotels and properties that have been visited and stayed in anonymously. Apparently these days that is not always the case, and they will send someone along to have a chat with the owner and get the vibe of the place. And they charge for this. Even though half of hotels don’t make the grade, it seems unsatisfactory that there is no secret shopper element, and it shows at this hotel. I am going to quote what was said, rather than link to it, as I am hoping this listing will disappear pretty soon, as Mrs Nigel took the unprecedented step of writing a complaint letter to St Alastair of Sawday.

 There is an option to eat Breakfast on the terrace overlooking Augusta Gardens. They use locally sourced food as much as possible. A menu is placed in the bedroom for guests to pre-order the night before (but ordering on the day is also possible). Hot cooked breakfast including vegetarian is on offer as well as any combination. Breads, Pastries and preserves are available as well as Cereals and fresh fruit.

We tried out the “no need to pre-order” quote on the receptionist when we came back on Day 2, after he ambushed us on the way in (and this gets worse). He was adamant that you always have to pre-order the actual breakfast in any hotel. I used my usual “I have stayed in 100s of hotels, and I’ve never been treated like this” line, but it had no impact at all. He told us the real reason: Everything is frozen, and it has to be “left on the side overnight to defrost”: If you have stayed at The Relish, the link for Folkestone Environmental Health is here… So I ordered two full English, as that was the only way to guarantee that if I wanted something the next day, I would get it. Mrs Nigel stepped in (obvs), and reduced that to one FE and an “omelette” – Honestly, how am I supposed to know what I want in the morning? And I’d like to order it and then get it cooked fresh (and preferably from the fridge…)

A quick diversion from Sawday’s. I said things got worse. When we had arrived the day before, Mrs Nigel witnessed a little to-do between friendly reception chap and the cleaner. She was complaining that she couldn’t get into one of the rooms to clean. We discovered when we got back to our room which room that was: Ours. There is nothing nicer when you are away than coming back to a clean room and actually having some fresh coffee sachets etc. And little worse than coming back finding some appears to have burgled it (I think this was my brain dealing in expectation management: We are not that untidy). I went to reception, and he said that the master key didn’t work, so they didn’t clean our room. Unpacking this: First, he should have told us when we got back, offered us a drink in the garden, taken our key and sorted it out. Second, he should have organised a spare key being cut the day before, so it didn’t happen anyhow. Third, in the absence of all of the above, rather than pestering me about breakfast that morning he could have asked me to leave my key for the day. None of this happened, instead it was all about the bloody breakfast. I do not blame him at all. He clearly has an edict that he has to get these breakfast orders in, and this overrides everything else.

Anyway, back to Sawday’s.

Do you notice a) “Breads, Pastries and preserves”, or b) Humans enjoying their breakfast on the terrace? No, those are indeed rabbits. Mrs Nigel, I think somewhat mischievously, asked to sit on the terrace per Sawday’s, but we were told that despite the glorious weather, no we could not. The poor waitress had only been there a month, so there was not much she could do. Pretty much everything that was nice that had been promised does not exist. That bread is only locally-sourced if you call going to the nearby Tesco Express local sourcing.

What a lot of complaining. More, perhaps, than usual (if that is possible), but I really feel strongly about this one. It could be a lovely hotel, and with a bit more love and effort, and some actual management, it would be great. Someone needs to stay in the rooms, and actually see them from the guest perspective. And the owner needs to be present and on top of all of the small details that make a hotel great. In looks, size and position, it is very similar to one of our favourite hotels, the Ravilious in Eastbourne. It even shares some of the styling cues. But that is run by the owners, who take care of all the details, and we go back again and again. This has been outsourced, in effect, and it really shows. The staff were honestly absolutely lovely, but mismanaged to the nth degree.

Conclusion

Overall Rating: 2/5

• Room: 4/5
• Service: 4/5
• Management: 0/5 (a new category, just for this hotel)
• Breakfast: 1/5
• Value: 3/5
• Would we go back: If Sawday’s need a secret shopper, maybe. Otherwise, no

The Relish: http://www.hotelrelish.co.uk/