Wedmore Place: The Stay That Came With a Plot Twist
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned I prefer memorable places. Unfortunately, Wedmore Place took that as a challenge.
I returned my second time expecting European charm—vineyards, antiques, wine, and cozy fireplaces. Instead, I checked into what felt like an abandoned movie set from the Shining. No staff, just a key left on the counter and a phone ringing behind the desk like a cry for help. So I called their 7-10 pm number to get “voicemail full” and sent an SMS with my number.
Our “Venetian” suite had potential—if you ignored the chaotic décor, pornographic impressionist paintings, ceiling cherubs, and the unsettling feeling that no one had supervised the design. Then reality set in: no guest soap, no guest towels, and no bedding for our third guest.
Morning brought the grand finale—a mouse turd in my bed and using the bathrobe as a towel.
Breakfast room? Locked. Naturally. We found a key labeled “cafe” on the counter of the front desk, So we let ourselves in, and dined on stale muffins before reheating our Cracker Barrel leftovers. Garbage was overflowing behind the counter.
Just as we settled in, pest control arrived and someone who worked there was surprised to find us dining on leftovers and apologized that someone should have been in at 7 am. Six days later, no charge, no apology—just memories. And honestly? I’ll never forget it. Sadly, I won’t be back for round three.
