Good Hotel Guide
Hostels and Hotels in Romford
Got a hotel to list? – any of these locations then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.
Dagenham, Grays, Hornchurch, Purfleet, Rainham, Romford, South Ockendon, Tilbury, Upminster
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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I had worked on Bolton market for six months, forcing myself out of bed at 3.30 every morning to spend 11 hours knee-deep in guts and giblets, selling trays of dubious fish and chicken at three for a fiver. The freezing cold and the smell I had grown used to, but the pinched expressions of fellow passengers on the bus journey home still brought about a great deal of embarrassment. It couldn’t be denied, in the inverted language of market traders I was lemsy (smelly) from deelo (old) fish. Word inversion was useful when you didn’t want customers to understand. ‘Tar attack!’ would have all the workers scuttling for higher ground onto splintered pallets or battered boxes of chicken thighs stacked at the back of the stall as a rat the size of a bulldog decided it was time for mayhem. Originally dubbed ‘the poor man’s market’ in what was a working man’s town built on the prosperity of the local cotton mills, Bolton market was subsidised by the council to provide cheap food and clothing for low-income workers. (In a flourish of affluent delusion it has since been completely refurbished and modernised. The rats get to scamper around on fitted nylon carpets amid designer lighting franchises. An elegant coffee shop offering vanilla slices on dainty china now occupies the spot where once the best meat and potato pie sandwiches in Lancashire were messily consumed by fishy-fingered stall workers like me.) It was an undemanding job both physically and mentally, which suited me fine. Stress was for the rich and hardworking, characteristics that were never going to be heading my way. That’s not to say that I was content. A string of menial jobs had taught me that contentment is not always found on the path of least resistance, but I had found myself meandering towards that monotonous British lifestyle of schooljobpensioncoffin, and something needed to be done fast.
Dagenham, Grays, Hornchurch, Purfleet, Rainham, Romford, South Ockendon, Tilbury, Upminster
In the evenings, Travel Scrabble saw a lot of action and when word blindness set in, we would master an ability of seeing how many coins we could simultaneously spin on the apartment’s marble floor. Occasionally we would babysit for holidaymakers, introducing their toddlers to the wonders of Monopoly or impressing them with our coin-spinning prowess. During our stint, Joy did manage the odd shift in the local supermarket and I was promised a job with one of the island’s pioneers in bullshit. We were savouring the sterility of the hotel bar in celebration of a new world record in gyrating 25-peseta coins eleven, if you’re interested. All the furnishings were from the ‘sit on the fence’ school of design, created to neither offend nor favour any particular taste. The tables and chairs were busily patterned with green and white leaf motifs, the tables faux bamboo. As much thought had been given to mood lighting as to the gallery of pictures hung on the wall. Spanish tourism posters showing impossible-to-find coves were clipped behind smudged Perspex. We made two pints of beer last as long as possible so that our bowl of complimentary peanuts was kept replenished. A conversation in the adjacent quartet of armchairs had caught our attention. An orange-tanned man in his mid-forties was trying to play it cool with a young, suited Spaniard. No easy feat when you’re wearing Elton John sunglasses.
The busy summer season was upon us and the decision was made that next week we would open for breakfast and lunch, as well as evening meals. In light of this, the last thing we needed was an added hassle but naturally, we got one. Our apartment had been sold and we had three weeks to find somewhere else to live. Other news to reach us confirmed that an East End gang from London were doing the rounds, targeting British bars in the South. We called a meeting to discuss what to do when Ron and Micky came back. We’re not paying them,’ said David. ‘Give in to them once and they’ll just want more next time.’ So what do we do? If we say no they’ll smash the place up and we’ll lose business, plus we’ll have to pay the cost of repairing things,’ I argued.