Let’s talk about the room. You know what you’re getting with a Premier Inn: a hypoallergenic, cloud-like bed that will swallow you whole. I’m not saying it’s magical, but I am saying I’ve had better sleeps there than in my own bed at home.
The bathroom is spotless, the shower pressure is aggressively good (in the best way), and there’s a massive TV to watch terrible late-night telly. Everything works, nothing is broken, and the curtains are so thick they’ll block out the sun like a vampire’s coffin. It’s boringly perfect.
Parking: The Unsung Hero
If you’re driving, free parking is a glorious thing. Unlike some city centre hotels that charge you the equivalent of a small car, this one just lets you park and walk away. It’s almost suspiciously generous. I half-expected a confetti cannon to go off when I pulled in.
Just remember: there’s a height restriction barrier. If you rock up in a monster truck or a double-decker bus, you’re out of luck. For the rest of us, it’s smooth sailing.
