Unsold Hotel Rooms : Western Frontier Motel.

Unsold Hotel Rooms

unsold hotel rooms
    hotel rooms
  • (hotel room) a bedroom (usually with bath) in a hotel
  • A hotel is an establishment that provides paid lodging on a short-term basis. The provision of basic accommodation, in times past, consisting only of a room with a bed, a cupboard, a small table and a washstand has largely been replaced by rooms with modern facilities, including en-suite
  • (Hotel Room) Hotel Room is a three episode 1993 HBO television series produced by David Lynch (who directed two of them). Each drama takes place in the same New York City hotel room (number 603 of the Railroad Hotel) at different times (1969, 1992, and 1936, respectively).
  • not disposed of by purchase; "the house has been on the market almost a year and is still unsold"
  • (of an item) Not sold
  • 2842 Unsold is a main belt asteroid with an orbital period of 1545.9427120 days (4.23 years).
  • Albrecht Otto Johannes Unsold (April 20, 1905 - September 23, 1995) was a German astrophysicist known for his contributions to spectroscopic analysis of stellar atmospheres.

8 September 2008
8 September 2008
There may be doom and gloom in the housing market, but Val d'Isere isn't feeling the draught yet. There are just two small flats unsold in Les Choucas, the half-finished building on the left, for anyone with a million quid to burn. If the price doesn't put you off, the name might. It suggests the developer didn't know the difference between the Alpine chough (chocard), which is a local bird, and the jackdaw (choucas), which isn't. There is of course no Gallic Bill Oddie, no Guillaume le Bizarre. The only nature programmes the French watch are the ones where the subject ends up in a pot. The crane on the right is helping with the luxury extension to the Hotel le Kern. Work stopped two years ago when some busybody noticed that they'd accidentally added an extra floor. Miraculously this summer the people whose view had disappeared decided that it didn't matter... Further down on the left, where the tea-room and flower shop used to be, there's now a huge hole destined to be filled next year with the Telemark building. It will be even more upmarket and exorbitant than The Crows, so needless to say it has sold even better, the last apartment going within a week of the plans' being made public. It hasn't all been plain sailing for the developers, though: to stop the adjacent buildings leaning into the gap they pumped lorry-loads of concrete into the ground. A neighbouring shopkeeper was quite surprised to find his store-room transformed into a 20m3 block of readymix! Anyway, Val d'Isere is no longer the ugly duckling of French ski resorts. Indeed, its numerous hamlets of stone-and-wood chalets with their granite roofs are the envy of the whitewash-and-tin resorts which considered themselves so chic mere decades ago. Inside, Val's recent residences, hotels and chalets are as smart as from the outside. Our Chalet de Pierre has a lift from the gym to the dining room on the assumption that after a day on the slopes and an hour on the cross-trainer, you mightn't be able to walk up the stairs! And if you wonder where you're going to meet all these smart people for a cocktail, you'll be glad to know that a new bar-restaurant- nightclub is about to open on the nursery slopes, at the Rond-Point. If on the other hand you rather liked Val d'Isere as an ugly duckling, don't worry: the swan may look glamorous, but its preferred mode of transport is still the Land Rover. The day the locals start driving Porsche Cayennes, we'll be off!
In Hull I have 40 minutes or so to wait for my connection bus which gave me time to have a look at this famous Hull landmark. I should liked to have gone in for a look around for anything connected to the hotel's Philip Larkin associations, besides, I rather fancied a bottle of Bollinger and a plate of smoked salmon but alas I have noticed that muddy boots and dripping rucksack may produce adverse reactions among the excessively pernickety, a fearsome risk, and so another trivial pleasure is postponed and tossed upon that piled Everest of life's woe! Philip Larkin knows all about that: FRIDAY NIGHT AT THE ROYAL STATION HOTEL Light spreads darkly downwards from the high Clusters of lights over empty chairs That face each other, coloured differently. Through open doors, the dining-room declares A larger loneliness of knives and glass And silence laid like a carpet. A porter reads An unsold evening paper. Hours pass, And all the salesmen have gone back to Leeds, Leaving full ashtrays in the conference room. In shoeless corridors, the lights burn. How Isolated, like a fort, it is - The headed paper, made for writing home (If home existed) letters of exile: Now Night comes on. Waves fold behind villages. Philip Larkin 1922 - 1985 Even the pigeon looks a wee bit miffed.

unsold hotel rooms
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