Mercure Brands Hatch - Fast Cars & Sanitary Scars

Leathers on, loyalty card out.

Mercure claims this is “the perfect pit stop for business and leisure.” Translation: “Welcome to a hotel stapled to a racetrack, where we’ve duct-taped some wellness onto a Travelodge and called it luxury.” Their brochure burbles about “championship dining” and “modern comfort.” In reality? I checked in, dodged a £20 parking fee using a secret QR code like I’d joined the Freemasons, enjoyed an upgraded room, and then opened the bedside drawer to find… a sanitary pad. 🩸 If this is pit lane glamour, then I’m Nigel Mansell.

🛎️ Check-In Pit Stop

I was ready for the usual Mercure welcome: confusion, sighing staff, and a credit card machine held together with duct tape. Instead, I was greeted by a receptionist so chatty and helpful I thought I’d walked into Disneyland: Hospitality Edition. She not only spotted my Accor loyalty status (miracles do happen) but inducted me into the Secret Parking Brotherhood. While the peasants forked out £20 for asphalt access, I was scanning a QR code like Nicolas Cage in National Treasure.

Compared to Novotel Coventry, where the ParkingEye machine nearly claimed my soul, this was a revelation. Loyalty status finally gave me something better than a biro and a polite shrug.

Pole position at check-in. No pit crew required.

🛏️ Room With a Speedometer View

Behold, my upgraded room: modern, sparkling clean (I did the white glove sweep — nothing), and themed like a teenage boy’s Halfords fantasy. A giant speedometer mural above the bed — because nothing says “romance” like staring at your RPMs while adjusting your pillows.

Creature comforts? Real double bed (unlike ibis Budget Newport, where I played Tetris with two single beds), robes, slippers, USB sockets, and a phone that actually worked. I called reception just to test it, then immediately hung up out of sheer shock. The minibar had bottled water, orange juice, a Kinder Bueno, and a Paterson’s cookie that I inhaled like it was my last meal on earth.

And then — the twist. The bedside drawer contained a sanitary pad. Not the chic racing souvenir I expected. A new form of turn-down service? 🩸🏎️

Complimentary pad upgrade — Accor really spoiling me now.

🛁 Spa Time – Nigel, Lord of the Bubbles

Robe tied, slippers flapping, I strutted to the spa like Roman nobility. Instead of the usual screaming toddlers and floating plasters, I found… nothing. Empty. Glorious. I claimed the hot tub as my personal kingdom.

For five glorious minutes, I sat bubbling away like a mafia boss who’d just closed a deal. True, the tiles looked older than Damon Hill’s moustache, and the changing rooms gave off “school gym in 1993” vibes. But did I care? No. Unlike the pools at other Mercures, which usually double as polar bear training camps, this hot tub was actually warm. For once, I left the spa not planning to sue.

Say hello to my little jacuzzi.

🍺 Sports Bar & Guinness Crimes

The bar is basically a petrolhead shrine: full-size motorbike indoors, helmets on the wall, racing memorabilia everywhere. I cashed in my free drink voucher and asked for Guinness. It was poured to perfection… then committed to the wrong glass. A soulless, unbranded tumbler. This heresy now speeds straight into The Great Guinness Glass Audit.

Food shocker: it was edible. Buffalo wings that tasted like actual chicken, and a Chicago-style hot dog that didn’t resemble a hospital tray. Compared to the “curry in a Year 7 woodwork project” served at Loch Long Hotel, this was haute cuisine. Still overpriced, obviously, but edible is a win in Nigel-land.

📶 Wi-Fi at Warp Speed

Usually, hotel Wi-Fi makes me nostalgic for dial-up. Here? 87 down / 90 up. That’s basically NASA-grade. Fast enough to stream F1 in 4K, upload drone footage, and hack the Pentagon — all at once.

Compared to the buffering purgatory of most Mercures, this was a miracle. Right up there with the Wi-Fi legend of Novotel Newcastle Airport. Nigel didn’t just browse — he soared.

Faster than Lewis Hamilton leaving the car park.

🏁 Final Thoughts

Mercure Brands Hatch didn’t break me. Friendly staff, a racing theme that almost works, Guinness poured correctly (glass crime aside), edible food, Wi-Fi faster than Lewis Hamilton’s pit crew, and a hot tub kingdom where Nigel reigned supreme.

But let’s not get misty-eyed. £20 parking for the uninitiated is grand larceny, and the sanitary pad drawer will haunt me longer than most of my therapy sessions.

Final Nigel verdict:🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🩸 “4 race cars and 1 surprise sanitary pad.” Curious how this hotel stacks up against the rest?

 👉 See the full Accor-ometer: Beds, Beers & Bad Decisions