cecilia-ahern-love-rosie

378 Cecelia Ahernplace is like a dungeon. The carpets look like they were laid in the’70s, they’re dirty and smelly and have cigarette burns, black patchesof stuck on chewing gum, and other stains the smell of which I don’twish to know.This long corridor leads down to a large bar area which contains thesame dirty smelly carpet, dark wood, paisley-covered stools andchairs, and when the sun shines through the tiny, paint-flaking windowall you can see is the air thick with wisps of smoke probablystill there from the old man who used to sit there with his pipe 200years ago.The dining area has twenty tables and a limited menu. It has thesame carpet except it has the added feature of food stains. There arebrown velvet curtains, and net blinds; the tables are covered in whatwas once white but now yellow lace tablecloth with rusty foodstainedcutlery. The glasses are misty, the walls are white, whichmakes it the only room with light but no matter how much the heatis turned up it feels cold.But the smell. It’s like somebody died and was left to decay. It hassince been absorbed into the furniture, the walls, and into my clothes.There are 60 rooms, 20 on each floor. Beanie proudly announcedthat half of them are en-suite. You could imagine how happy I wasto hear that, thinking immediately that I should ring up the TV andradio stations to advertise this wonderful feature. The fact that somebedrooms have bathrooms.Two wonderful women, Betty and Joyce, each aged about 100 yearsold, clean the rooms three times a week which frankly I find ratherdisgusting. And given how slowly they move, I’d be surprised if theycleaned the room even that often.I was also beginning to wonder what kind of customers a hotel likethis would attract but it all became clear to me as I worked the late