Mercure Bolton Georgian House – Damp Dreams & Falling Ceilings

Swim cancelled. Collapse confirmed.

Accor’s website boasts “elegant Georgian charm with modern comfort.”What I got was Georgian collapse with period damp. The only thing modern was the digital screen in the lift announcing my energy usage, carbon footprint, and countdown to despair.

From the outside, this hotel whispers “stately country escape.” Inside, it screams “heritage emergency.” The lobby smells faintly of air freshener and moral compromise. If ibis Budget Newport is prison chic, Novotel Coventry is kettle purgatory, and Mercure York Fairfield Manor is decaying aristocracy, then this is the crossover episode — Avengers: Moist Edition.

I came for comfort. I stayed for content.

🛎 Check-In & First Impressions 💀

Reception greeted me like a self-checkout machine that’s seen too much.No smile, no small talk — just: “You’ve got the last room.” The tone implied I’d drawn the short straw in a horror anthology. Still, free parking! Always nice to save £7 before your emotional breakdown.

Then came the Concept Lift — Bolton’s claim to innovation. A screen proudly displayed speed, power, and energy efficiency. I’ve never felt so informed about my descent into regret. Once at my floor, I stepped into a corridor lit like a haunted carvery — flickering bulbs, floral carpet crimes, and the faint scent of wet woodchip wallpaper.

🏚 CSI: Bolton 🧪

The room introduced itself with the confidence of a condemned building. Décor: “Conference Centre, 1987.” Walls: dented and possibly sentient.Ceiling: cracked, weeping, and sighing with the weight of unrealised potential.

The Berkshire 200 beige phone sat proudly on the desk, serving no purpose other than aesthetic despair.The function-room chair matched perfectly with the overall theme — Budget Desperation.

My loyalty gift? A Mercure pencil, ideal for sketching your will.No biscuits. No USBs. But the kettle was clean, bless it — the lone survivor of this domestic apocalypse.

🛏 The Bed Situation 😬

The bed deserves its own exhibit at the Museum of Questionable Hygiene. At first glance, a double. In reality, two singles joined together in a toxic relationship.The sheets told tales of past guests and regrettable beverages. The mattress — oh, the mattress — featured stains in tones Dulux doesn’t officially name.

Mattress: 1. Hygiene: 0.

Performing the bounce test produced a sound like someone sighing through tears.The headboard wobbled. The bedframe groaned. My trust in humanity vanished.Even my Mercure pencil looked at me as if to say, “Don’t do this, Nigel.”

It wasn’t a bed. It was a cautionary tale.

🚿 Bathroom of Broken Promises 💧

If the bedroom was bleak, the bathroom was biblical.The ceiling resembled a geography experiment gone rogue, complete with a growing puddle of mysterious origin. The Filth Extraction Fan was now purely decorative — like the hotel’s commitment to maintenance.

The shower produced a trickle that wouldn’t rinse a raisin. I resorted to a proud sink wash, Victorian-style, flanked by Elemental Herbology toiletries performing their farewell tour.

The smell was “Eau de Plasterboard.” The ambience? Existential despair.

💦 The Leak Chronicles & The Manager’s Shrug 🧱

A damp patch above my door stared at me like an omen. I reported it.Reception gasped. The manager appeared, radiating indifference.My options were: 1️⃣ Check out and get a refund, or 2️⃣ Stay and let nature take its course.

Naturally, I stayed — for the fans, for the story, for science.

By morning, the ceiling had finally given up. A full collapse. Debris carpeting the floor like a budget winter wonderland. Staff? Unmoved. They’d seen it the night before and decided to “monitor the situation.”

Accor: redefining passive management since 1967.

🩳 Pool Closed, Dreams Crushed 💦

I arrived ready to channel my inner Olympian — Speedos packed, goggles primed, heart full of optimism. After all, last time I stayed here, the pool was open and functioning, much like my faith in Accor.

This time? Doors locked. Lights off. Sign missing.I asked at reception, and was met with the universal gesture of Mercure hospitality — the shoulder shrug. A shrug so practiced it should be part of the Accor training module: “How to Acknowledge Disappointment Without Effort.”

Apparently, the pool “might reopen soon,” though judging by the state of the ceiling, I assumed it had already relocated upstairs. Somewhere between the cracks and the damp, my Olympic dreams drowned quietly in beige-tiled sorrow.

Speedos packed. Dignity unpacked.

🍺 The Bar – Guinness, Drama & Doom 🍻

Retreated to the bar, where the TV displayed “NO SIGNAL”, presumably synced to the staff’s motivation.Ordered a Guinness from a can, poured via a high-tech Guinness Surge Machine, and — miracle of miracles — into the correct glass.A small triumph in an evening of defeats. Somewhere, the Great Guinness Glass Audit choir hummed in harmony.

Moments later, a drunk couple entered the chat. Denied more drinks, they made bold declarations about creative redecoration using household fluids. I won’t quote them verbatim — let’s just say the curtains were under threat.

I finished my pint and left before the prophecy was fulfilled.

📶 Wi-Fi & The Great Escape 💨

Shockingly, the Wi-Fi was brilliant — 66 Mbps down / 44 up.Enough to livestream your despair in HD.Skipped breakfast. Left early.On my way out, the corridor ceiling was gone. Gone. Reception nodded like this was routine — “Oh yes, that’s fallen. Again.”

At this point, I didn’t know whether to call a builder or a priest.

Faster than the ceiling fell.

🧾 Final Thoughts 💬

Mercure Bolton Georgian House isn’t accommodation — it’s a warning from history. It fuses the architectural optimism of York, the corporate sorrow of Coventry, and the chaos of Newport, all held together by damp and denial.

Still, I’ll give credit where due: the Wi-Fi was fast, and the Guinness was perfect. Everything else? Best left to insurance.

Final Nigel Rating: 🛏💧🛏 out of 5. One bed for Wi-Fi, one drop for drama, and one bed for sheer survival. Everything else belongs to archaeology.

Curious how this hotel stacks up against the rest? 👉 See the full Accor-ometer: Beds, Beers & Bad Decisions 👉 Read The Great Guinness Glass Audit