That year it snowed in Tenby, Wales. It was the first time for 30 years.. The same weekend that Tammy and I had booked into the Royal Lion Hotel to chill out and discuss her coming wedding plans, dresses, decor and procedures of the day.
We “chilled out”! while Tenby residents were ecstatic, sliding down slopes.
We did a little window shopping looking for wedding gowns and viewed the snow covered beaches of Tenby. Then we took a drive to see the quaint little chapel stuck halfway down a cliff in an area called St Gowans Head. But the steps down the cliff were closed because of snow! We walked the eerie corridors of Pembroke Castle, accidently coming upon a tower with baby Henry VII, the first monarch of the Tudor dynasty, born 1457, with his birthing mothers, and a banquet of William de Valence, taking place in another. The outside grounds and steps were trecherous that day, with not many folks about, only silly people like us.
But my real story begins our last night at the Hotel, sunday night when all the pub patrons had gone home. The night manager/porter informed us as we passed by, that we were the only hotel residents too. We had been out walking to the local shops, getting some supplies for a little carpet picnic up in our room on the second floor.
Once the wine bottle was opened, the morning tea cups were filled, and cheese and biscuits was first on the menu. Tammy had her book filled with wedding lists to tick off and finalize; so we were quite engrossed when the “Rat a tat” came on our door.
My hand moved quicker that my brain and the bottle of wine was in the wardrobe, in case it was the manager.
Tammy said:’Who could that be?’ ‘Don’t open!’ I warned.
‘Hello, hello, who is it?’ But there was no reply.
Strange, but worrying as the bloke had only just told us we were the only people in the building.
Tammy picked up the phone and rang the reception desk.
‘Did you just knock on our door?’ He replied to the negative.
This did have a result, as the surprised hotel porter called out to us, through our door some time later, saying he had checked the whole floor and there was no one about.
‘We had by then had a few rants at each other:
‘Well, if there was no one in the building; it has to be a ghost!’
‘Don’t be stupid, Mom, ghosts don’t knock!’
‘Well then what, they walk through doors?’
We decided in the end to call a truss and go back to wedding plans.
It must have been fifteen minutes later, “Rat a tat” again at the door.
Tammy jumped up this time and said, ‘Who is this?’ but also looked through the key hole.
She stood back looking shocked:
‘There is no one there!’ she whispered.
Oh, oh dear! We stood together transfixed, both lost for words.
Just then behind us the bathroom door which had been standing open, slowly closed towards us.
(At this point you must imagine the theme music from “Thriller” going through your head.)
Once again my hands moved before my brain, what was I thinking!
I pushed the bathroom door with force, to give the element of surprise; to whom? A ghost?
There was nothing there but a length of bathroom hose dangling down the back of the door, with a shower nozzle still over the hook at the top of the door.
When I touched the hose the shower nozzle went “Rat” against the door.
We stared at each other in disbelief. We re-enacted the whole scene of the unravelling hose!
We remembered the rolled up hose behind the door the day before. The full realization of the nights events had killed any excitement that we had about wedding plans.
So silently we went about the chores one does before bedtime, even the wine was corked; shaking our heads somewhat, giggling somewhat and wondering as we drifted off to sleep, what we would tell the night porter in the morning.
We were spared the embarrassment in the morning as he had left for the day.
He too was spared; there is no telling what bad publicity a runaway shower hose, not dealt with properly, could have caused the hotel.