Good Hotel Guide
Hostels and Hotels in Colchester
Do you have a hotel or B&B in any of these locations then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.
Bures, Clacton-On-Sea, Colchester, Frinton-On-Sea, Halstead, Harwich, Manningtree, Sudbury, Walton On The Naze
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.
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Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.
Short Extract
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The sun filled the bedroom with an unearthly resonance that demanded we wake. I had one of those split second ‘where am I?’ moments before the rabid butterflies began to gnaw on the inside of my stomach. A new life began today. Not a trifling matter to ponder before even a bowl of cocoa puffs had passed my lips. At 7.45 a.m., the sun was already baking the pine furniture in the lounge, releasing an unusual warm-wood odour, a substitute for the damp plaster smell that I was accustomed to in Bolton. I filled the kettle with warm water from the cold tap and removed the jar of Carioca coffee from a plastic bag containing a basic welcome pack from el presidente. There were two cans of San Miguel beer, a bottle of water, a carton of semi-skimmed milk and a jar of apricot jam. No bread, just the jam. Eating was out of the question anyway, and after showering and putting on shorts and TT-shirts, we set out for the bar in anxious silence. We decided to take the scenic route, walking around the perimeter of the complex, down past the sea and back up what I breathlessly dubbed Cardiac Hill. Two or three florid bathing caps bobbed in the gentle wake a hundred yards from the rocky beach where neatly folded towels lay waiting. For the last few working days at the market, a vision of early morning dips in the warm ocean provided a constant distraction from my ice-cold fingertips and interminably damp feet. It was one of many anticipated pleasures but for now it would remain just that.
Bures, Clacton-On-Sea, Colchester, Frinton-On-Sea, Halstead, Harwich, Manningtree, Sudbury, Walton On The Naze
Despite the wrench of packing for a new life and packing up my old one, all was going according to plan until we got a phone call from our gestoria, the person who was sorting out the paperwork for us in Tenerife. ‘Slight problem. I can get work permits and residence permits for the two lads as joint owners, but not the girls. I’ve just found out the only way we can make them legal is if you’re married, in which case the wives automatically become residents. You’ll all have to get married, quickly.’ As much as our hearts were racing at the thought of swapping the two-tone grey of Bolton for the multi-coloured hues of a life in the sub-tropics, Joy and I were adamant that marriage was not a thing of convenience. The threat of wedding chimes set off alarm bells and we said no. The whole move was in jeopardy once again. Even Faith was disappointed. They had already agreed to get married if it meant we could still go ahead with the plan. They were not amused at our refusal. We’re prepared to sacrifice so much and you won’t budge at all,’ complained Faith at an emergency meeting.
Eventually a man of the green cloth was pushed into the room and I proudly revealed my affliction. Blood was still seeping through the checked tea towel that was tightly bound around my hand. The medical man peered at my hand and gazed inquisitively around the room. It was at this point that I had the uncomfortable feeling that this was all a bit unfamiliar to him. He picked up a brown glass bottle, scanned the label and liberally scattered the contents over my wound. We both waited a moment, he a little more curious than me, to see what reaction I would have to this liquid. I was relieved when no more than a vague tingling occurred, but I sensed disappointment and surprise from him. Next, he dabbed at my hand with an unnecessarily large wad of cotton wool and told me to hold it there while he went off in search of needle and thread. We have all heard those news reports of phoney doctors performing intricate surgical procedures on unsuspecting patients, and I was beginning to think that this man was no more of a doctor than I. To flee or not to flee battled in my mind, but before I could run for it, he returned looking very excited. Being English and therefore not wishing to appear rude, I tried to think of a polite way of asking him if he was actually associated, in any way, shape or form whatsoever, to the medical profession. Have you been busy today?’ I lightly enquired.