Caroline likes to rent somewhere on Airbnb between Christmas and new year to break up the winter holiday. No, not in Courchevel or Barbados, I’m afraid, but something a bit more affordable. Last year, we spent three days in Margate, which worked out quite well, save for the eggy smell on the seafront. This year, she decided to rent a house in Cardiff. It was not a success.
On arrival at the Airbnb, the first thing we noticed was how
cold it was
The reason for choosing that particular city is that QPR were playing Cardiff at 5.15 p.m. on Boxing Day. The plan was to embark on the drive after lunch, drop the bags off, then head to the stadium. We’d stay in Cardiff until 29 December, at which point we’d drive back to London in time for our home game against Luton. I can imagine many wives baulking at organising family holidays around QPR’s fixture list, and if I was the only Rangers fan in the household it definitely wouldn’t happen. But my four kids are all avid supporters as well, so Caroline has reluctantly fallen into line. I decided to enlist them in this sadomasochistic cult when they were too young to know any better. After all, misery loves company.
On arrival at the Airbnb, the first thing we noticed was how cold it was. Not just because it was only a few degrees above freezing, but because the central heating wasn’t working. We called up the owner, who evidently hadn’t got far because he appeared almost immediately and explained that the boiler was broken and we’d have to make do with fan heaters. Not only that, but the window in the kitchen was locked in an open position – he’d lost the key – and none of the doors to the rooms closed. I’m not making that up. This chap was an amateur builder and he’d hung all the doors himself with the upshot that not a single one fitted properly. We literally couldn’t shut any of them. To complete the picture, the only bedding provided was the cheapest, thinnest duvets I’ve ever seen. Even with a fan heater on full blast, it was impossible to keep warm.
Now, this place cost £1,265.54 for three nights, so we were expecting something that was at least functional. But it turned out nothing worked. The wifi kept cutting out, the cutlery was bent, the furniture wobbled. The toilet seats slid from side to side, creating a funfair ride effect every time you took a number two. Evidently the landlord had bought everything in a job lot from Poundland. DIY equipment and half-empty paint cans had been shoved under every bed, as if we’d interrupted him in the middle of doing the place up, which might well have been the case. We felt like the tour party in Carry on Abroad who arrive at their ‘luxury’ hotel on the Costa Bomm only to discover the place is a building site.
To top it all, the QPR games that book-ended our three-day break were dreadful. The first one was a dismal 0-0 draw in a rainy, windswept stadium that was three-quarters empty. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a stadium in the Championship that was so quiet – even the 600 or so QPR fans, huddled together in the away end, were subdued. Still, the draw meant we chalked up a point on the road, which was a huge result for us. Going into this game, we’d lost four of our last five matches.
We hoped to put the whole miserable experience behind us when we arrived at Loftus Road to see QPR take on Luton Town on the 29th. Luton hadn’t won this fixture since 1984 and they’re below us in the table – at least, they were. But the Hatters humiliated us, beating us 0-3. Their striker was clinical in front of goal, scoring twice from three chances, whereas ours missed every opportunity. We’ve got a new manager, having lost the last one after just 22 games, and this was his first appearance in front of the faithful. What a debut! It was our fourth home defeat in a row.
In truth, this short ‘holiday’ was so comically awful, it was actually quite fun. I’m one of those Englishmen who likes nothing more than a good grumble, and this mini-break gave me plenty to complain about. Had it merely been mediocre – had the central heating worked and had QPR managed to eke out a 0-0 draw against Luton as well – I definitely wouldn’t have enjoyed myself as much. I even quite liked our family outing to Cardiff Castle, the only bit of sightseeing we managed. Not because the Castle itself was impressive – although it was – but because it rained continuously and we all got completely soaked. Dare I say it, I probably liked this stay-cation more than I would have a trip to Mauritius or the Maldives. I think I must be a miserabilist at heart, which is why being a QPR supporter suits me so much better than being a Chelsea or Arsenal fan. Happy new year.
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