Stopping at the Travelodge

 Yesterday, our family went to a walk. As we were on our way back home, we stopped at the local Travelodge. We had only seen it from the outside before. Wolfie wanted to stop to a hotel for a drink, for some reason he finds this very fancy and very exciting. Travelodge hotels are far from posh, in fact they are as functional and bland as hotels can get, devoid of any personality or atmosphere, but they still have a bar/bistro/restaurant. And sometimes, even a bland place can have its sort of charm, paradoxically because of its lack of it. Especially for a young child. I used to see it this way when I was a child, in any case, when the blandest café seemed so special just because it was a place to stop by. I suspect this is how Wolfie sees things. So we stopped there. There was nobody, except one staff member, a young person who might have been a dummy. She never once acknowledged us. In the end, we decided to walk back home and get a drink there. I felt guilty for Wolfie, as if I had let him down.