Broadwalk7

Easy and spacious car parking. Friendly helpful staff. Quiet spacious room with microwave. Would use again if in the area.

Although we had a portable heater in the room radiators were not on for long in the room so it felt a bit chilli, but we were early Jan and weather was cold so this would not be an issue in warmer weather.

First, the practical points: the price is unbelievably cheap for the location, nestled in the Norfolk Broads. It’s clear that this place has a lot of history, and at one point, it must have been set up with real enthusiasm. The rooms have a distinctly early-2000s vibe, and there are personal touches everywhere including a barber’s chair, random bits of decor that feel like echoes of the past, and even motivational signs that carry a kind of hollow optimism, adding to this sort of identity crisis, and where multiple parallel universe converge into a single point. Despite the disorganisation, I can't deny that I enjoyed my stay. There's something oddly endearing about the place—the mix of forgotten decor, the bizarre introductions, the contradictions between an overly visible CCTV system and a DVR just sitting there, easily unplugged. It’s a place that feels like it's caught between past ambition and present neglect, yet it still functions in its own strange way. Then you have the dusty turned off fruit machine by the door and golden streamers dangling down, so you feel like an archaeologist finding clues about a time when there was energy and life in this place, fingerprints left in time. Would I stay here again? Probably, yes, because part of me enjoys the randomness of it all. If you’re someone who appreciates a bit of unintentional adventure with your accommodation infused with early 2000's decor, you might just feel the same. Oh and parking was good.

That said, there’s a definite feeling that things have been left to run on autopilot. When I arrived, there was no one around, and I had to knock on random doors to find someone. Eventually, a woman in a pink dressing gown silently led me to the building, knocked on a dark, unlit room, peeked inside, then quickly turned wide-eyed and shut the door - leaving me standing there. A minute later, a guy emerged, looking slightly disoriented but friendly enough, and led me to my room. It was the kind of experience that makes you wonder if you've accidentally wandered into a David Lynch film. Despite free Wi-Fi advertised, there was no one to talk to, no signs. I had to use the WPS button to connect one device, and then use my IT skills to harvest the WiFi the passcode to use on my other, non-WPS enabled device. I tried to text for help, but no reply ever came back. Whole thing felt strange, and the strangeness was amplified by the grim foggy, silent hill-esque February gloom which was the backdrop to the experience.