Novotel Newcastle Airport – Raving, Raging, and Sleep by the Shot
- Nigel Slippers
- Aug 3
- 5 min read
Updated: 1 day ago
Welcome to Novotel Newcastle Airport – where the decor is fresh, the parking is free, and your welcome gift is a book about sleep, as if to foreshadow the night ahead.
It’s an airport hotel, so expectations were set somewhere between functional and faintly traumatic. But this one surprised me – not because it was flawless, but because it tried. And it gave me mints forged by northern miners. Let’s get into it.
🚗 Car Park – Fill In, Freak Out
Plenty of spaces – a luxury in 2025. But to earn my spot, I had to perform the ancient ritual of the ParkingEye registration terminal. Nothing screams "relax" like typing your reg into a touchscreen that lags like it's running Windows 95.
🛎️ Check-In – Vouchers and Vibes
Reception was efficient, polite, and – most shocking of all – acknowledged my Accor loyalty status without prompting. I received:
An executive room (fancy)
A free drink voucher (hope)
A gift bag with Jesmona Black Bullets, local mint sweets once cast in moulds used for ammunition. Because nothing says “welcome to Newcastle” like sucking on heritage weaponry.
🛏️ Room – Fancy-ish but Flawed
Nice, modern room with a double bed (no single-bed divorcees here), extra pillows in the cupboard, and a plug socket situation that included HDMI/USB at the TV – bless.No USB ports by the bed though. Because why would we want convenience?
🍵 Kettle Trauma & The Great Fridge Deception
The kettle was broken. Not just “a bit wonky,” but fully unusable — the lid button had snapped clean off, leaving me to wrestle with it like it was a medieval puzzle box. A very “boil water, but prove you deserve it” kind of challenge.
This meant no evening tea, no emergency morning coffee, and a strong possibility that I’d be buying a Monster Energy from a petrol station tomorrow just to function.
Thankfully, I was given two glorious Biscoff biscuits — the international symbol of hotel diplomacy. A small emotional balm for the shattered dreams of a working kettle. 🍪
Then I turned to the mini fridge with the optimism of a child opening a Christmas present... only to find two tins of water — one still, one sparkling — and the fridge itself? Not even switched on.
Room-temperature water, lovingly preserved in a display cabinet of sadness. It was like someone had tried to simulate luxury using only props from a GCSE drama set.
📘 Bonus Item: The Sleep Survival Guide
On the desk, neatly placed beside the kettle-that-wouldn't and the Biscoff biscuits of hope, was a book titled simply “Sleep.” Not “Sweet Dreams,” not “Rest Well,” — just “Sleep” — the way a hostage negotiator might say it.
It felt less like a complimentary amenity and more like a warning. As if the hotel knew full well what I was in for: rave music through the walls, a blue USB light blinding me into submission, and a broken kettle ensuring caffeine withdrawal.
Still, a nice gesture. Like handing someone a snorkel while pushing them off a cruise ship.
🛁 Bathroom – Ritual Cleanliness
Modern, spotless, and stocked with Rituals toiletries — because in Newcastle, even scrubbing your armpits must feel like a sacred rite.
The bathroom came with both a shower and a bath, which feels extravagant in a world where most hotels barely offer warm water and trust. Perfect for business travellers, weary airport wanderers, or anyone who fancies soaking in a tub while questioning their life choices.
🍻 The Guinness Games – A Voucher Betrayal
I approached the bar with the wide-eyed hope of a man clutching a sacred scroll — my Accor free drink voucher. I spotted Guinness on tap. My heart fluttered. Could this be… a proper moment?
Alas, the bartender delivered the devastating blow: “Guinness isn’t included anymore.” I blinked. Stared. Surely this was some cruel joke? A loyalty betrayal of biblical proportions.
Thankfully, the barman had a glint of rebellion in his eyes and the moral compass of a hero. He poured me one anyway. Yes, it came from a can. But — and this is important — it arrived in the correct Guinness glass.
A small victory, but in the war of hospitality, we take what we can get.
Curious how that broken kettle and ticket-hall of fame pour stacks up? See how Novotel Newcastle fares in The Great Guinness Glass Audit
The atmosphere? Utter chaos.A 9-week-old baby was screaming like it was headlining Creamfields.Excited children dashed about the bar like they'd just snorted Calpol and dreams.I couldn’t take it. I abandoned my pint and retreated to find solace elsewhere.
🎱 Pool Hustle – Guinness by Deception
In a bid to escape the cries of a 9-week-old baby and a chorus of overexcited holiday-bound children at the bar, I wandered deeper into the hotel… and stumbled upon a pool table, tucked away by the restaurant like some forgotten relic of sanity.
It looked like it hadn’t seen action since the last guest checked in and never checked out — probably still upstairs waiting for room service. But I saw opportunity. I saw hope.
I lured in a couple of unsuspecting guests, flashed my most innocent “just-here-on-business” smile… and proceeded to hustle them into buying me more Guinness. One game turned into three, and with each accidental pot of the 8-ball, my pint glass filled a little more.
Desperate times. Desperate measures. But at least I left with dignity, and a respectable break-shot.
📶 Wi-Fi – Streamed via Hope
Download: 99 MbpsUpload: 7 Mbps
Not bad… not great. Sort of like being handed a 3G phone in a 5G world and told, “Good luck.”
You can stream a show, sure — as long as you don’t mind it buffering just enough to make you question your life choices. It’s the kind of Wi-Fi that says, “One episode, maybe two — then off to bed with you, peasant.”
Still, better than some hotels where the Wi-Fi is powered by hamster wheel and regret.
📘 Sleep – A Book, a Bed and a Bucket Hat
My bedside gift: a little guidebook called “Sleep” — presumably aimed at guests who hadn’t just necked a Guinness and been sonically assaulted by Clubland: The Greatest Hits Vol. 12 through the paper-thin walls.
Yes, the room next door had clearly mistaken their executive suite for a mini nightclub. Every bass drop vibrated through the mattress like a motivational slap. “You wanna sleep, mate? Not in Newcastle, you don’t.”
Between that, the broken kettle, the Sleep book glaring at me with judgement, and my own reflection in the black mirror of the unplugged telly, I eventually passed out sideways on the bed. Possibly dreaming. Possibly unconscious.
Sleep achieved: technically, yes. Emotionally? Debatable.
🧐 Final Thoughts – Mint Balls, Bedlam, and a Broken Kettle
So what happened?I survived the ParkingEye Hunger Games.Got a tin of Guinness poured with empathy.Swallowed mints once forged in bullet moulds.Ducked baby screams.Hustled strangers at pool.And came home with a sleep manual and a new respect for the madness of Newcastle.
Would I stay again?Yes – but next time I’m bringing earplugs, a working kettle, and a noise-cancelling priest.
🌟 Rating: 🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️ out of 5 A raving wardrobe, weaponised sweets, Clubland remixes, and Guinness negotiations.
Newcastle: not relaxing, not quiet, but very awake. Curious how this hotel stacks up against the rest?
👉 See the full Accor-ometer: Beds, Beers & Bad Decisions
