When you read this, I shall be home from a few days away in the pleasant town of King’s Lynn. As I type this, I’m getting ready to leave the hotel room for the final time. I’m sat with my tablet and wireless keyboard looking around the room for things to comment on. It’s a little dated, with crusty bits hanging from the top, but that’s enough about me, more about the time away.
Myself and Chris, my usual travelling partner for these days away, had originally planned to do this as part of my “stick a pin in a map and just bloody go somewhere” initiative last year, but as luck would have it, I got indescribably sick, and Chris had the sniffles, so it was postponed several months until this week..
I initially thought the whole trip was doomed to failure again, as we’d barely left Hartlepool when we ended u[ stuck in traffic. Some complete loser lost his trailer on the Tees flyover. I;d normally complain, but while this did add a whole 20 minutes to the journey, it gave me the first opportunity for a photo. You should all know by now how much I like my “grim graf”, this one was a winner.
You might have to click the original image for that one. Thankfully, as far as I can recall, the rest of the journey was plain sailing. I fired up my “trip away” playlist on Spotify. Unfortunately, I think I’d only managed to add about 6 songs to it, so that didn’t last the whole three days as intended. Instead we endured local radio. I was saddened to find that my favourite local radio station, Lincs FM, 102.2 had bitten the dust.
A quick blast down the A1, and our first stop was, coincidentially, Lincoln. A lovely little city where I’ve been before, but not for a very long time. There was also large portions of it I’d never seen before, such as the cathedral.
Of course, the most important part for me were… yes, you guessed it, the charity shops. And streetlights. I’ve not mentioned those on here for a very long time. Sadly, the LED onslaught has taken the entire fun out of everything, so you’ll have to forgive me for almost creaming my pantaloons at the sight of a Thorn Alpha 3, on original Thorn column and its almost makeshift-looking outreach arm. Phwoar. they don’t make them like that anymore.
Anyway, there was one thing I thought I’d learned about Lincolnshire. It was flat. Let me tell you, that it is not. If you want to visit certain places like the cathedral and the castle, it’s certainly an uphill walk. In fact, the route we took takes you to a place named Steep Hill. Annoyingly, I did take some photos of the ascent, but my phone thought it’d be a great laugh to convert these photos to black. You’ll have to make do with a photo at the top of Steep Hill.
Halfway up was a local beer shop. they still remain in their bag, so I’ve yet to comment on how nice they are. Of course, at the top of the hill is the cathedral, and it would be the first of several cathedral stops on this tour.
We made a quick pit-stop at a place called the Duke William Hotel. Amusingly, the guy behind the counter had relatives from Hartlepool. Us monkey hangers get everywhere.
Time was getting on, so we headed down the slightly less steep version of Steep Hill, which still gave me some good photo opportunities.
We went back to the car and headed onto our final destination, King’s Lynn, which would be our home for the next three nights.
There was, however, a moment that almost put the entire week in jeopardy. Somewhere along the A17. An amusing turn of events. We passed a service station and Chris took a wrong turning, heading towards Boston. It just so happened that I needed to do a toilet, so we attempted to pull into the service station, making a wrong turning on the way. Chris parked up, and on my way to the afore-mentioned defecation station, I stepped off the kerb… It wasn’t a normal kerb, it was one of those foot-high kerbs. My right ankle almost gave way. Thankfully, it didn’t, but I bet the bog in Starbucks wishes it had. Hoho. No photos.
That was it now. No more stops until our final destination. One thing I had never seen before, however, are fields and fields of daffodils. It’s funny, you see them in the shops this time of year, but I never thought that they’d be grown over here. Certainly, in the north-east we never have anything close to this. At least, not that I’ve seen anyway.
Anyhoo. Normally before we go away somewhere, I do a deep scan of the places on Google Maps / Street view, in order to get an idea of the ‘facilities’ that are worth visiting, namely the pubs, Indian restaurants and charity shops. For the first time in all of the times we’ve done these trips, I didn’t do that. I wanted it to be a surprise, especially seeing how long I’d waited to get here. The sat-nav eventually put us on the right road, and after only a few minutes after arriving in King’s Lynn it seemed like we were in the centre. A large market place, seemingly something that must have been around since for hundreds of years. The Duke’s Head hotel was to be our residence until Friday.
Of course, the first thing to do was to arrange parking. £15 per day, and if you left, you weren’t guaranteed a parking space back in. Still, it seemed cheaper than stayin in the market square, and probably more secure. The next job was to actually find the bloody car park. It’s not well signposted at all, and the location just throws Google Maps into a spasm. At one point, it announced we’d reached our destination, when this was clearly a council ran car park. Little did we know, that if we’d just walked down a side street, we’d have found it, and I’d have saved £2.50 for about 38 seconds parking. Hey-ho.
We headed into the hotel entrance at the back. Decorator’s sheets littered the floor. A smell of wet paint filled the air. Temporary LED lights hung from the ceiling. This looked like a hotel, but in the process of being regenerated. A workman pointed us to the right entrance around the corner. Remember that side-street? Yup, that’s when we discovered it.
Eventually we got through the right door. The reception and foyer area was very nicely decorated, with leather chairs and chandeliers everywhere. Very nice indeed. The receptionist was friendly, and after the correct parking charge was settled, we headed up to the room. It was. compact, but dated. The bathroom was spot on, but the room itself was flaking paint, along with chipped veneer on the desk. It’s also the first hotel room I’ve ever been in that doesn’t have plug sockets next to the bed. It’s 2025. People need to charge devices during the night! The only plug sockets were the other side of the room.
The view out of the window was quite nice, the view of a distant church, the name of which escapes me. Let’s just call it St. Jocky’s. There’s also some big silos behind too. I didn’t realise King’s Lynn had a port, but apparently that’s where they’re from.
As much as I liked staring out of the window, we weren’t going to spend much time in the hotel room. It’s all about the curry, beer, and charity shops. I fired up the tablet. Google recommended one called “The Curry Shop”. We got there, and it looked very closed. Thank you very much, bloody Google Maps. Fortunately, there was an Indian restaurant right next door that was open, named ‘Voujon’. Well, that’s what Google Maps tells me anyway. We were the only people in there apart from the staff. Just like the hotel room, it was also small and compact. the food was acceptable, but I’m sure we’d find better. It went on the “might revisit” pile.
Food was consumed, and it was time to actually find somewhere to drink. The first stop was “the Eagle”. Wow. If King’s Lynn has a chav centre, I would think this was it. The beer was awful, and I only had a Carling. I think we spent the entire time looking around just thinking “Yeah, probably should have picked somewhere else”. Think we ran out of there.
Next stop was the pub next to the hotel, the Maid’s Head. The footy was on, so we watched that. Can’t tell you who was playing or what the score was, as I was too busy shitting my brains out. Dunno if it was the curry, or that dodgy pint in The Eagle, but…. wow.
We headed out of there and went to the Wetherspoons for one, planning to have one at the hotel as well. The Wetherspoons was absolutely dead. More staff than punters. Mind you, it was a Tuesday night. We went back to the hotel bar for one, only to find it was closed, and it must have only been 11. Gosh darn it. Oh well, back to the hotel room, and after a couple of episodes of Family Guy, it was time to embark on Day 2…
