READING about Paul Gascoigne's assault on his wife in the opulent Gleneagles Hotel in Scotland reminded me of an unnerving experience I had at the end of the 1960s.
I was in Northern Ireland covering the civil rights marches. I was staying in what could only be described as a downmarket Gleneagles Hotel. One night I was in a deep sleep, exhausted after covering another tense day of rioting, when I heard screams coming from the adjoining room. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then it dawned on me that some woman was being battered to death. Her shouts, the crashing of the furniture and the general mayhem was frightening. I have never witnessed a murder or a wife beating, but this seemed to me to be the genuine article. There was literally a frenzy of violence in that room. The walls seemed to be shaking.
Golden Rule
I didn't know what to do. Should I go and knock on the door (and probably get myself beaten up)? Should I inform reception? Should I hammer on the wall? Would I be making a fool of myself? They say you should never interfere in family rows: they just turn their fury on you. But the intensity and viciousness of it was worrying me. I was convinced that the woman, whether she was wife, mistress or girlfriend, was going to be killed. To my eternal shame, I took the easy way out. I did nothing.
The next morning I sat at the breakfast table, looking out of the side of my Irish Times to see if there was any women with a black eye or broken nose in the room. There wasn't. And the whole thing remains a mystery to this day. Gazza's violence in Scotland brought it all back to me.
I told this story to a colleague recently and asked him what he would have done in that situation? He explained that he had a way of finding out exactly what was happening in the room. How? I asked in amazement. "Oh, I'd go into the bathroom, get a drinking glass, place the open end against the wall and listen at the other end. I could then hear whether it was a murder attempt or just a husband and wife row." Simple, eh?
I can't wait for a similar incident to happen so I can try out my clever new trick.
Hotel Hazard
I don't know who was in the bedroom next to Gazza on the night he is alleged to have attacked his young wife, but that person certainly has my sympathies. I wonder if he or she went through the same emotions as I did? It is not a nice experience.
I never seem to sleep well when I'm away from home. Sleeping in hotels is always fraught with frustration; people coming and going, tramping up and down the corridor all night in hobnailed boots, talking loudly, showing no consideration for stressed out journalists, trying to open my door by mistake, or the phone ringing in my room - a wrong number, of course.
Night to Remember
One of the most restless nights I ever experienced was in the City Hotel in Derry, also back in the late 1960s. This hotel, whose site is now used as a car park, was located beside the impressive Guildhall. Unfortunately, the Guildhall has a big dock whose bells go bong, bong, bong, every 15 minutes.
I had just got to sleep when a worse racket began to come from the room next door. No, it wasn't someone finishing off his wife. It was one of the heaviest snorers I have ever heard in my life.
Eventually, I got out of bed and took out my typewriter and wrote a little article on the scourge of snoring. A kind of therapy. The clicking of my typewriter didn't wake my friend next door. An IRA bomb wouldn't have wakened him. It a was a nice off beat article and I got it published a few months later.
I remember once having to share a room with a notorious snorer. From the minute his head hit the pillow, until the next morning, it was like having a freight train in the room with me. I was too polite to hit him over the head, although I was close enough to taking drastic action. I was exhausted and bleary eyed the next morning. When I told him how bad he had been, he claimed I was exaggerating.
The next night was just as trying. I took out my tape recorder and put the mike under his nose and taped him for about 10 minutes. At breakfast I played it back for him. He was astounded at the commotion. He could not believe it was him. He offered his profuse apologies.
Plugged In
Of course, you can buy ear plugs and block out the worst effects of a snoring blitz. There are a great variety of earplugs on sale. I have a pair which I use when swimming. It prevents me from going deaf from the water. I never go on holidays without them. The girl in the chemist's who sold them to me shyly smiled and said she had a pair herself: her husband a heavy snorer.
Still, it might be dangerous using earplugs when going to bed in hotels. With my luck the hotel would go on fire and I wouldn't hear the alarm or the people banging on my bedroom door. It would be a stupid way to leave this world.