I receive more requests to recommend a cheap London hotel than almost anything else. No stranger myself to sofa surfing in the capital (ie, being crippled by a friend's fold-out mattress which I call the Carr's Table Water biscuit), I know how frustrating it is. Where can one get a decent night's sleep in one of the most expensive cities in the world, without spending your entire Christmas shopping budget?
According to its current ad campaign, the Ibis chain thinks it has the answer and, as further enticement, a press release arrives containing the sort of wild claims journalists love.
Accor (the French parent company) is, it says, the world's leading hotel operator (I wonder what people in Turkmenistan think about the brand). Its new UK hotels are "brimming with uncompromising designer style" and have "new generation bedding". I've never actually had a bed diagram sent to me before, but the "ergonomically engineered" Sweet Bed (I kid you not) is said to offer a specific design for the UK, 40 years of engineering expertise and 600 kilos of crash testing. What on earth do the French think we Brits get up to in hotel rooms?
A friend also has meetings in town – so I book a twin room in the new Ibis Shepherd's Bush. Ooh, I'm surprised how much I like the black and red lacquer lobby which merges into a long, contemporary cafe bar incongruously called Fogg's. Sofas, bar stools, leather bucket seats – no stinting on comfort – it's noisy though, with uncompromising background music.
Fourth floor. Compact bedroom. Good use of space and free Wi-Fi. Neat shower room – a bit like a train loo cubicle. Budget compromises are: one towel each, plastic spoons, UHT milk and a slow kettle. The window won't open and the single beds look suspiciously narrow.
Bea and I meet at classic London dining pub, the Anglesea Arms, 15 minutes away, and stroll back after the sort of dinner we can only dream about back in the provinces. "Why have they designed beds for Brits when London's full of foreign tourists?" she muses. We settle in Fogg's – now a rather cool spot – before heading up to sleep.
"Crikey," I say, sinking back into the undeniable snuggliness of "new generation bedding". "This is like balancing on a soft plank.'
Next morning, Bea says she woke, as usual, in the small hours. I've woken on and off all night, teetering on the brink of new generation narrowness.
"Mm, good deal," says Bea, loading smoked salmon on to her plate. "Three-course breakfast and good coffee, with change from £9. I'd come back with my husband," she says, "but in a double room."
How did they manage to cock up the single bed dimensions after all that research? Now I shan't think of the Sweet Bed when I see an Ibis ad, but instead of a Seventies TV sitcom, about a Jewish and an Irish tailor. It was called Never Mind the Quality, Feel the Width.
Follow Sally on Twitter @sallyshalam
