Ibis Preston North – Where Carpets Go to Die
- Nigel Slippers

- Aug 8, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Sep 7, 2025

📍 Location, Location… Smell-ocation
If your life ambition is to sleep a stone’s throw from the M6, Ibis Preston North is your spiritual home. Petrol station? Tick. Pub attached? Tick. Pitch-black car park at night for that authentic “horror movie intro” scene? Oh yes. You’ll be hauling your bags from the unlit tarmac to reception like you’re about to meet a shady contact in a spy film.
🚬 Arrival & First Impressions
The grand welcome: two staff members outside enjoying a cigarette, clearly prioritising Marlboro over Marriott-level hospitality. After a couple of minutes, they wandered in smelling like the final ten minutes of a pub lock-in.
On the desk? A bright yellow ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY sign in red text. The passive-aggressive vibe is strong — like your nan putting a post-it on the fridge saying “NOT FOR YOU” next to the cheesecake.

🛗 Lift of Doom
The Otis 2000H is less “elevator” and more “time capsule.” The brown carpet inside looks like it’s been soaked in pub spills since the 80s, and it lumbers up the shaft at a speed that makes sloths look impatient. Add in mechanical groans and you’ve got a free anxiety experience with every ride.

🚪 Corridor of Curiosity
Dim enough to make you question your night vision, with carpets so patchwork they look like they’ve been Frankensteined together from other failed hotels. Smell-wise? Eau de Regret, with notes of damp.

🛏 The Room – A Time Capsule of Sadness
The décor is so dated it probably still listens to Simply Red. Carpet covered in unidentifiable stains, a double bed with a mattress thinner than a Wetherspoons napkin, and pillows that could be used to wrap fragile glassware.
The TV is an early 2000s bolt-to-the-desk special — presumably to stop guests carrying it away in a moment of madness. Beneath it, a wooden chair stolen from a school detention room.
☕ Kettle Crimes & Biscuit Betrayal
A miniature white kettle that looks like it came free with a doll’s house, complete with a grimy interior. Served with plain mugs, plain tray, plain coffee — no biscuits. The fridge? A concept they’ve clearly heard of but not embraced.
🚿 Bathroom – A Festival of Filth
If the smell didn’t put you off, the visuals will. Mould in the grout, taps with enough grime to start a compost heap, a toilet handle dangling like it’s had enough, and a bathroom door that’s been chewed — possibly by a past guest attempting escape.
Toiletries were the all-in-one “Rock Your Body” variety — perfect if you like your hair smelling exactly like your hands.
🧥 Wardrobe Woes & Sofa Crimes
Three mismatched hangers on an open rail, complete with complimentary cobwebs. The sofa bed? A red, stained monstrosity you wouldn’t sit on with protective gear.

🍺 Bar & Guinness Injustice
Took the drinks voucher to the bar, enjoyed some quality people-watching, and ordered a Guinness. What arrived: a tin poured via an old-school surger into an unbranded glass. Somewhere in Dublin, a single tear rolled down a brewer’s cheek.
For more on pint crimes, see the Great Guinness Glass Audit and Novotel Coventry review.

📶 Wi-Fi Redemption
Finally, a miracle — the fastest Wi-Fi I’ve ever seen in a hotel. 383 Mbps down, 26 up. So at least you can stream something cheerful while you block out the décor.

🧐 Final Thoughts – Carpets & Cans
Pitch-black car park. Staff smoking at the door. Passive-aggressive welcome sign. Survived the slowest, stinkiest lift to find a wafer-thin mattress, doll’s kettle, mouldy bathroom, and a sofa bed straight from CSI. Guinness from a tin in an unbranded glass. Only the Wi-Fi moved faster than my will to leave.
Would I stay again?Only if I’d broken down on the M6, my phone was dead, and the only alternative was sleeping in a ditch — at least the Wi-Fi’s better here.
⭐ Final Rating: 🚬🛗🛏️🚿🍺 = 2.1/10 – Two points for location and internet speed. Curious how this hotel stacks up against the rest?
👉 See the full Accor-ometer: Beds, Beers & Bad Decisions

































Three mismatched hangers and cobwebs? At least the spiders feel at home.
That Otis 2000H sounds like it’s powered by sighs and regret.
A double bed thinner than a cracker — sounds like a chiropractor’s retirement plan.
A Guinness from a tin in an unbranded glass? I’d have checked into the ditch instead.