COMPLAINTS

I reckon there comes a time in life when you're much more okay with complaining about stuff.

I don't mean grumbling about the food just after the waiter's asked you if everything is alright and you've all said 'fine thanks' while he's shuffled back to the kitchens. I mean confrontational, full-in-the-face dissatisfied presentation of something shoddy to the person who sold you it. Life is too short to be diffident. And what I've realised way too late is that some of these companies are actively counting on you not saying a thing, and rubbing their hands together about it.

Sorry, people in retail and hospitality. It probably isn't your fault; you're just trying to be the face of a giant invisible presence and you're faced with Karens every other day, I know. But surely you can appreciate that if something isn't quite value for money, it's not unreasonable to at least say something?

Anyway, we stayed at a hotel on Friday, just before our Windsor trip. We thought it would be a nice treat - luxury hotel, good reputation, close to Ascot and used to catering to people who know the finer things. And Sammy and I are pretty good at pretending to be the people who know the finer things.

Anyway. The TV didn't work (someone had pulled the aerial out), the breakfast was late and poor, there were greasy fingerprints on the plates and (as we photo-documented) there was mould on the bathroom ceiling. Also, there was a fridge that was a) plugged in through the wall, b) on and flashing like a party from the 90s, c) empty, and d) not cold.

So today I wrote to them. I told them about the disco minibar and the family of fungi camping out above the shower. I also mentioned how we were told not to worry about the fridge - even though I think it was technically a fire hazard. In short, I complained.

In fact, I asked square in the face for recompensation.

I won't get it. To be honest, I don't think I'll even get a response, given that I had to go miles round the houses to get the right email address. That's another thing - these companies now, they hide behind their websites. The 'Contact Us' section is either a bot who can't really do anything other than redirect you, or a series of pages for you to fill out a form with 'general enquiries' more designed for people planning a wedding than guests who want to tell the hotel that the doors are falling off the hinges.

'Complain' comes from the Latin for beating the breast, from lamenting in a very physical, very loud and obvious way. I get why I never used to do it - it's embarrassing, it's combative, it's accusatory. It can be rude. And sometimes we feel it has to be, to get results.

I wasn't rude. I sandwiched my issues with genuine compliments and tried to be kind. I do think a four-star hotel ought to have certain standards though, and I hope I pointed that out as clearly as I could.

As I say, there comes a time in life when shoddy 'that'll do', just won't do, and it's okay to speak up about it.