If you’re looking for a luxurious weekend away, please scroll as fast as you can when the internet falsely tries to sell you the Belfry Spa and Hotel, situated in Sutton Coldfield as a 4*.
If, however you’re looking for a fast track ticket down memory lane where you are in mandatory year 6 swimming lessons at the local sports centre, be sure to book yourself into the Spa. You may be searching for a good club to party at, in which case do come to Club Bel-Air…I heard great music all night from my room.
The Belfry seemed like the perfect escape from my government job and hectic PR diary. Little did I know, it would win the title of the greatest disappointments. I know what it’s like, I’ve sat on your side of the table. You think every blogger says the same shit – this skin product is my absolute fav and then you see them the next week recommending another. You’ve bought fit tea products thinking you’ll wake up with the perfect bikini bod the next morning, but the petite influencer recommending them has been in the gym all day with her celery sticks in hand. They are dripping in PLT one day and Miss Pap the next – no loyalty. I get it. Let’s bring this home. Every luxury hotel you’ve seen me recommend, you’ve probably thought I have been paid per post to do so and had preferential treatment all week. To some extent I agree, when a hotel knows you’re coming to dissect every detail of their delivery, they will inevitably treat you different…. or at least put you on a VIP list so everyone knows to treat you right. As good as this feels, it is not a direct reflection of how staff treat their guests. So, for both your and my satisfaction, I booked the Belfry to review it, without a word of a warning that I was a blogger…just like any other customer.
Check in: A mess. Couldn’t find the reservation for about 5 minutes. Hesitant offer to help with luggage. No warm welcome. All I’m asking for is a little hospitality. When I enter a hotel, I want to feel as welcome as I would feel entering your home. I want to know I’m going to have the best night sleep, wake up to an amazing breakfast and lovely people. I want to feel so good that I don’t want to go home. What we got was a little different. We climbed the stairs and managed to get into our old people’s home for the night. I took to my knitting chair and looked around the cob webbed ceiling in despair. The way the recent Belfry renovations were described to me was modern, techy, luxury hotel. It was far from it. Feeling like my weekend was an entire shit-show, I looked at the window and knew this too would be an issue in the morning. I need black-out rooms, and don’t want an ounce of sunlight coming into my room until I strip off the curtains in the morning. All I hear is excited golfers and the sun beaming onto my neat three-finger forehead at 7am.
I know you can all relate with what I am about to say. You know when you’re getting ready for your spa treatment and you want to get into your bathrobe and slippers…well these vital items were not available, unless you were a doughnut and paid for them. Just think about feeling like and continue reading. Giving it a chance, we headed off to the spa. The service was much better than at check-in. The therapists were very friendly and informed us of the itinerary for our treatments. We headed to the treatment rooms, and I had a good laugh with my Made From Birmingham therapist. Having never met anyone as Northern as this girl, she told me to man up when I complained about aches and pains, kept it real and had good chat – I liked her. I felt rejuvenated after, and had a dream-less nap in the relaxation room straight after. I went back to the room, and I did one of those ‘I’m so excited to be home, I’m going to leap onto the bed’ but nearly broke my ribs since the mattress was that hard.
Still gown and slipper-less, we took the fast route to dinner.
I know you’re expecting me to bitch about the dirty cutlery, rude staff and burnt chicken in Ryder, it was genuinely a beautifully cooked steak. The peppercorn corn sauce was yum yum. The service was expectably slow, where everyone looks like they are Pamela Anderson’ing out of the ocean, with my food – Babe, my food is going back if it’s cold. (Fun fact, I’m a different person when I’m hungry). Anyways, it was a great meal – no complaints until we get to breakfast. I left this section of my blog thinking I have written everything about dinner and I was happy. Funny story – I complained about 5 times. I booked a three course SIT DOWN MEAL. I get there, sit down, and the server points me towards across the room to go get my food. Number one rule, If I sit down for dinner, best believe I am even going to hold my pee so I don’t need to move, just in case my food comes while I am in the toilet and it gets really cold. The buffet made me feel like I was at a pizza hut, that’s all. Once we got over that 30-minute blunder, I got the starters, sat down, looked at the greens and hoped I would better from my steak. I did.
Fast forward 10 hours, and we find ourselves looking forward to coco pops at breakfast. I just finished watching a Jamie Oliver video about how to make poached eggs (whatever happened to Jamie Oliver?!), so I knew that the strategy the Belfry kitchen was using was an injustice to the world of eggs. Pushing aside the lack of poached, I plunged into the safest option – fruit.
Rest, nap and let’s make ways to the Fire and Ice Experience. It was as I remembered from a couple years ago, but they’ve added a few foot soak sinks. Three rooms were out of order, as they were years ago. The paper cones that we were invited to keep hydrated with still collapse as they feel the heat of the sauna. No conditioner in the showers, no disposable combs and not a cotton bud in sight. Finally, the 1 towel policy got a bit old when you come out spelling like Radox and must wipe with sauna towels.
In short, golfers I invite you to stay at the Belfry. Anyone else, who doesn’t want to leave knowing your earrings got stolen by the hotel staff, save yourself the money.