Good Hotel Guide
Hostels and Hotels in Swindon
Got a hotel to list? – any of these locations then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.
Calne, Chippenham, Corsham, Devizes, Faringdon, Malmesbury, Marlborough, Melksham, Pewsey, Swindon, Swindon
For UK travelers going abroad, we recommend Tenerife, with feel of the UK yet all the sun of Tenerife. Read an extract below from More Ketchup than Salsa, the story of a English couple who left the UK to set up life in Tenerife. Info on how to buy the book can be found below.
List your Hostel in Swindon
Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.
Short Extract
Get the book
Our branch was is in Los Cristianos. With the arrival of tourism, this sleepy fishing village had been hauled out of bed and re-dressed from top to bottom in hotels, apartments, souvenir shops and banks. As was the norm, I took my place in a queue that started just outside the adjoining cake shop. I wanted to explain that I was not a charity, and just because I had been seen making polite conversation with other account holders in the queue, we had not yet reached that cosy stage of friendship whereby my funds were freely available to all and sundry. There were two counters at the branch but as the queue inched forward I could see that, as was customary, only one was in use. Behind the other sat a stern-looking madam, inattentively flicking through a bulging wad of 10,000-peseta notes. Occasionally she glanced up, and from over horn-rimmed glasses, cast a lofty look of contempt over us all. The man at the front of the queue had emptied the contents of one of several large brown envelopes onto the counter. The clerk set about sorting the notes into separate piles, meticulously making sure they were all face-up. We were in for an exceptionally long wait.
Calne, Chippenham, Corsham, Devizes, Faringdon, Malmesbury, Marlborough, Melksham, Pewsey, Swindon, Swindon
Unfortunately, as the time came for David and Faith to clock back on, Ron returned having failed to find his son. He had obviously continued drinking heavily and sat at the bar barely coherent but still trying to pick a fight with somebody. Any shape, size or nationality had become a target. ‘You’re a fat cunt aren’t you,’ he offered to Des, an ex-bouncer on holiday from Bolton. Frank knew Des from back in the UK and had warned us that he was ‘as tough as fuck’ and not to be messed with. Unfortunately he hadn’t shared the same information with Ron. Not that it would have made much difference to Ron’s pickled sense of logic. And you’re an ugly twat,’ replied Des calmly, accepting his change from Joy. Ron stood up and tried to raise himself to his full stature but his body had other ideas. ‘Whadya say, fat boy?’ slurred Ron as he slumped back on his stool. Des turned to Ron smiling. He’d seen it all before. He leant into his face. ‘I said you’re an ugly twat but I’m sure your mother still loves you.’ He picked up his two drinks, kissed Ron on the forehead and walked outside before he had time to react. Ron touched his forehead and with a puzzled look, sat back down.
Late that night Joy and I started to suffer the same symptoms. We were too busy staring at porcelain to notice the jeep pull up outside again. Even if we had, we would have been in no state to kick-start ‘the sleeping policeman’. By the following morning we were bedridden. The beach was the last thing on my mind. Wayne called round later that day to see how we or more importantly to him Joy was doing. What you been eating them, youse look like shit?’ he asked. Nothing unusual. We’ve been eating from the bar,’ strained Joy.