A 4-Star Catfish with a 2-Star Soul
Where do I even begin?
Booked via Booking.com, swayed by the glossy, airbrushed photos and the promise of a 4-star escape. I thought, “What could possibly go wrong?” Oh, how naïve I was.
Let’s start with a positive: upon arrival, I was greeted at reception by two absolutely lovely ladies – warm, professional, and genuinely welcoming. I was handed the key to room 47, along with a complimentary drinks voucher. Nice touch – thank you for that.
And then… the dream ended.
The Room – Back to the (Dusty) Future
Opening the door, I was hit by a smell that can only be described as “charity shop meets damp attic.” Musty and stale, it clung to the air like a regretful decision. I optimistically assumed the room hadn’t been used in a while – a generous assumption, as you’ll soon discover.
The windows – caked in grime and boasting a fine crop of mould – were jammed open to let the spiders out and the disappointment in. The decor was a chaotic blend of mismatched furniture, late-80s/early-90s austerity chic, and a strong sense that time had given up here. Crockery was cobbled together from various lost civilisations, and to top it off, used milk cartons were still nestled on the hospitality tray. Cheers for that.
Lighting? Optional. The wall lights were non-functional, leaving me to guess where the cobwebs stopped and the ceiling began. The chair by the dressing table? Sat down and sank so far in I thought I might discover Atlantis.
Bathroom – A Health Hazard with Tiles
I didn't need to use the bathroom straight away, so I only discovered its horrors later. After dinner (more on that debacle below), I staggered back feeling weary and in need of a hot shower.
What greeted me was the pungent aroma of damp, doing battle with what I can only assume was the lingering spirit of previous guests. Tried to call reception – no answer. So I channelled my inner Bear Grylls, whipped out my trusty Lynx Africa and braved it.
Two minutes under the shower (which felt like bathing in someone else's apathy), and I was out. Mould around the bath, paint peeling like a dodgy wallpaper job in a condemned flat, and paper dangling off the vanity area like forgotten tinsel. The towel? Frayed, torn, and had clearly seen more action than the room cleaners.
Photos available upon request – but not for the faint-hearted.
Hathaways Restaurant – Style Over Substance
Visually? Nice enough. Got seated at table 1 – which, I later learned, is also known as Sticky Central. Not sure what adhesive was used, but it was working overtime.
The burger and chips? Passable – we’re talking school canteen levels of satisfaction here. Then came the sticky toffee pudding… served with lukewarm custard and an ice-cold sponge. Not chilled – icy. I sent it back and politely refused to pay for that particular assault on British dessert culture.
On the plus side – and credit where it’s due – the restaurant and bar staff were a delight. Friendly, attentive, and doing their utmost with what they had. Clearly a great team being let down by the environment they're working in.
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Final Thoughts
This hotel may advertise 4 stars, but it's functioning at a strong 2 – and that’s being kind. The staff are doing their best, but management seriously needs to revisit their own website, then spend a night in room 47 with a mildew-scented reality check.
Lea Marston Hotel, you’ve got potential – but until you scrub off the mould, update the rooms, and serve desserts at human temperatures, you’re not fooling anyone.
Date of stay:
July 2025
Room Tip:
Don't book room 47
Trip type:
Travelled on business
29 July 2025
Unprompted review