At 9am we found the dining room only to be informed by the surly receptionist in her

At 9am we found the dining room, only to be informed by the surly receptionist in her waitress’s hat that breakfast was finished. The smell of coffee almost had me whimpering, but Brian was already on his way out. “We can do better than this shit-hole anyway!” he bellowed, which made the few guests look up in interest.At the car, however, a treat was in store A window had been smashed and the radio was missing. “Shit!” exclaimed Brian, and then stepped in some, as we started to search for the nearest police station.Several hours later, with a square of polythene flapping at the window, we drove to the sea. As we scrunched along the beach, heads bent against the biting wind, it started to snow, so we beat a retreat to a wooden structure that housed a quite fine restaurant.

However, there was not another soul in the wind-whipped streets and the hostelries showed no signs of life. “God!” exclaimed Brian, slapping his forehead, “of course, it’s Easter and they’re all Catholics here! No one’s out tonight.” My heart sank.Feeling increasingly ill-tempered, we finally fetched up outside a restaurant with a window made out of bottle bottoms. “Seems OK, but no parking.” We eventually found a car park half a mile away and walked back.
The hotel was tall and narrow with a pointed roof. After checking in with the surly receptionist who never looked up once, we found our room at the front of the building. It was huge and shabby and far from the nearest bathroom.We needed food, drink and bright lights to perk ourselves up, and after further consultation of the guidebook we sallied forth hopeful of good times to come. Poland was not the place to revive a flagging relationship. We had decided to take an Easter break, but as we headed north of Warsaw in our hire car that bitter April day, we realised that it was unusually chilly for the time of year Conversation failed, as did the Skoda.

We limped through ancient forests and glimpsed wooden gingerbread-style churches – but the wolves and witches must have been hibernating. Gdansk, the ancient Baltic port, risen like a phoenix from the ashes of the Second World War … I flicked through my guidebook and found the name of a recommended hotel in the centre. As it was in a pedestrianised area, I nursed the Skoda while Brian went to ask about a room in his fluent Polish He soon returned.