Pubs and hotels are no longer the boozy, bustling places they used to be

I’ve been touring for years – I was touring when hotels didn’t have en-suite bathrooms, and inevitably you’d be sharing a bathroom “down the corridor” with a lorry driver who had been constipated since he left Inverness 10 days ago, but thanks to a late-night curry has finally managed to get things moving, minutes before your morning wee.

I was touring when people did nothing but smoke in hotels rooms; when everything was covered in cigarette burns and the landlady dropped fag ash on your fried eggs.

I’ve toured when my career has been hitting the highs – think spas and indoor pools, tempting bottles of good wine casually left in your room, complete with a handy bottle opener and cupboards full of fancy snacks. And I’ve toured when bums on seats have been thin on the ground and I couldn’t really afford breakfast if it wasn’t included.

This most recent tour sits happily somewhere in the middle: I’m not doing arenas, but I’m not “doing the foyer” due to lack of sales, either.

Occasionally, I will have a treat night in a nice hotel, but most nights away from home are spent in those very bland and corporate blonde wood places. I’m not slagging these hotels off, at least these days it’s possible to find somewhere affordable without bed bugs (and it’s a pleasure not to get your dry cracked heels caught on nylon sheets), but all that said, there is something a tad askew in the world of hotels right now.

For starters, my tour manager despairs of getting any decent deals – once upon a time, a good travel agent could tip you the wink on where in town you could bag a bargain. This autumn, there simply aren’t any.

He was actually quoted £800 for a room in a smart boutique hotel in Leeds a couple of weeks ago. Maybe there was a big sporting event in town, or maybe September is peak stags and hens season? We genuinely couldn’t find anything within our price range in the city, and instead drove out to Barnsley where we managed to get a couple of rooms in a more budget-suitable Travelodge.

I’ve got over being fussy about my overnight accommodation – after 18 months of being denied a stage to play on, as long as my door locks and the sheets are clean, I’m not as picky as I once was – though I must admit, I far prefer a bath to a shower. This isn’t just about baths being so much more relaxing; it’s about lousy hotel shower design and never being able to step into a medium-warm shower without getting drenched in cold water or scalded with boiling hot water first. Note to all hotels (and I’ve been banging on about this for years): put your shower controls outside of the shower.

The odd thing about hotel bookings right now is that although we are being told various places are full – and consequently I feel lucky to actually get a room – the reality of my experience so far is the emptiness of most places. How come a hotel is “full”, when there are five cars in the car park and no one but myself and the tour manager at breakfast?

I have a suspicion that some hotels might be running on limited room availability because there isn’t the staff to cope with a genuinely full hotel. This could be paranoia on my behalf, but something has shifted since Covid and hotels are no longer the fun, boozy, bustling places they used to be.

Rooms have been stripped of any excess paraphernalia, mini-bars are uniformly empty, (no bad thing in some respects), all those piles of local shopping and tourist guides have disappeared from the coffee table and these days I’m having to request a blanket, rather than finding one in the wardrobe.

It’s not just hotels that seem to be in a strange state of flux at the moment. Recently, back in London for a few days between gigs, I booked a local gastropub online for my partner’s birthday. We needed a table for four, no slots after 8pm were available, so I opted for an early 7pm supper – fully expecting them to need my table back by 9pm.

At 7pm, although all the outside tables were full of early diners, we were the only booked table inside. The place was deserted, and remained so – bar another couple – until we left. Again, I could be jumping to conclusions, but it struck me that a shortage of kitchen staff may have resulted in a reduced later evening service.

Maybe I’m just choosing to eat and stay in the wrong places, but to illustrate my point, a recent midday checkout in Leamington Spa consisted of trying to do business with a cardboard cut-out bravely manning the front desk. She was smiling in a friendly manner, but we weren’t fooled – she couldn’t supply a receipt and the hotel had to be phoned from my tour manager’s mobile to eventually summon some help from its nether regions.

It’s all not quite... normal.