Bureaucracy is often a wonderful thing. Just to be clear, I am using the word ‘wonderful’ in the sense of exciting wonder, not in the sense of indicating excellence (though as a bureaucrat of many years’ standing, I do have to admire the beauty of the logic loop this case highlights).
The Oasis Hotel in Llandudno is one of those big seafront hotels that litter many a British seaside resort, with late Regency and early Victorian portico facades.
In Spring 2008, the proprietor of the hotel decided that it would be a whiz to paint the columns and some of the trim “a vibrant, deep pink”. The managing agents who actually own the freehold were less sure and mentioned it to the local council, Conwy, who in turn took exception as this particular shade of pink was deemed not to be in keeping with the character of the promenade. (It’s many years since I’ve been to Llandudno, but frankly, the place could do with a bit of work; it pretends to be Wales’ answer to Brighton, but comes across at times a little like Blackpool with haemorrhoids. Except the Great Orme. I like the Great Orme).
Anyway.

The council told them to paint it white. So the hotel proprietor bought white paint. The council said it was too glossy; it had to be matt. But not too matt: silk would do. But not that shade.
Apparently the place is still pink because the council can’t quite decide what shade of white they want. This is important stuff, apparently. Give it another 18 months or so on the seafront and it will need repainting anyway.
The Oasis Hotel in Llandudno is one of those big seafront hotels that litter many a British seaside resort, with late Regency and early Victorian portico facades.
In Spring 2008, the proprietor of the hotel decided that it would be a whiz to paint the columns and some of the trim “a vibrant, deep pink”. The managing agents who actually own the freehold were less sure and mentioned it to the local council, Conwy, who in turn took exception as this particular shade of pink was deemed not to be in keeping with the character of the promenade. (It’s many years since I’ve been to Llandudno, but frankly, the place could do with a bit of work; it pretends to be Wales’ answer to Brighton, but comes across at times a little like Blackpool with haemorrhoids. Except the Great Orme. I like the Great Orme).
Anyway.

The council told them to paint it white. So the hotel proprietor bought white paint. The council said it was too glossy; it had to be matt. But not too matt: silk would do. But not that shade.
Apparently the place is still pink because the council can’t quite decide what shade of white they want. This is important stuff, apparently. Give it another 18 months or so on the seafront and it will need repainting anyway.