A Hotel with a grand name does not necessarily attract a grand calibre of guest. Present company accepted of course. But theres a golf course and I brought my golf clubs to ease away the afternoon boredom of being sent to Daventry on a special work errand which bares non consequence to any thing in particular, but I must remember to properly check the website as there is also a pool and hot tub; regrettably I forgot my swimmers, maybe Daventry isn’t ready for that just yet.

However the town of Daventry is something else; desperate multiple requests around the circumferance in neon pink to Sponsor this roundabout go unanswered as two white minibuses full of people doing community service sat on the car park railings smoking roll ups as the supervisors (clad in Hi-Viz yellow instead of the offenders Hi-Viz orange) rummage around in the minibuses for tea urns and plastic mugs to serve. A pair of women pushing a stolen shopping trolley with 3 crates of Diet Coke desperately slowly up the hill to the empty town centre, where the free parking is taken by God knows who. Its a town of roundabouts, by-passes, subways, greenery, cycle lanes and teenagers shuffling along walking slowly across the ring roads so slowly that cars have to brake; theres nothing to rush for in Daventy. The town centre bare of anything but fast food shops and bookies, Chemists and B&M Bargains, an estate agent with fancy font and business like colouring reveals the serrated edge of the housing market here, new builds in a rabbit warren of cycle paths with no shop, no pub, and circuitous roads leading outwards like spokes on a wheel to somewhere less like Daventry. Executive homes for people who didn’t do their due diligence. 

I apologise for people from Daventry, but fucking hell it’s bleak here, despite the reservoirs and green open spaces, there is no hiding it that Britain is truly on the wain.