Mothering Sunday, 2004, was approaching and the 2½-year-old baby Josh nudged his proud father and suggested taking Amanda away for the weekend, which seemed like a great treat. Believe that if you will, but a bit of rather crafty pre-planning on my own part meant that I just happened to have a pair of cheap “Eurostar” tickets to Brussels already sorted out and I pointed my web browser in the general direction of “Priceline”, looking for a decent hotel. Not for the first time, I might add! It’s an exciting experience if, like me, you’re fairly cheeky. To cut a long story short, my offer of just £32 was accepted and we were allocated to the excellent “Sheraton Hotel and Towers, Brussels” – to give it its full title. I might add, in retrospect, that this was an absolute steal - just check out the rack-rate! Incidentally, Brussels’ “Eurocrats” migrate at the weekends and there would appear to be superb prices all year round at weekends – it’s a schizophrenic city with some superb deals to be had if you’re prepared to visit at the weekend.

Preparing myself for the experience, I did some basic research – much as you are doing now, I guess! I saw caveats about the hotel being in a “Red-light district” and, although not exactly a prude, I was starting to prepare myself for the worst. “Priceline” deals can be like that, let’s be honest! You get what you’re given. In this case, I am not one to complain. I’ll level with you: Yes: there is a fairly seedy street in the vicinity with “adult shops” (or should that be “adolescent shops”?), but we never once felt in danger, or even slightly uncomfortable – certainly not so much on red-alert as when waiting for our return train on the other side of town at Brussels-Midi railway station where – in my humble opinion – there were simply too many people just not actually travelling anywhere. I’m sure you catch my drift.

So – finally we got to the Sheraton. Not exactly a picture postcard, it’s a 30-storey concrete-and-glass superstructure in the Brussels Business District, but with excellent access, too, to the more touristy areas; an excellent compromise. It doesn’t actually look that tall, but count the floors whilst waiting for the traffic lights to change and you’ll see that it’s correct. Access is via a revolving door, leading to an oasis of a lobby. On your right is the Concierge, adjoined by a diamond / gold jewellers which I pretended not to notice. Amanda spotted it, but Josh and I concentrated on the Check-in desk to the left. Partly obscured, it didn’t have the completely open / welcoming feel of some hotels, but the staff were certainly very friendly and welcoming. Maud, the extremely friendly girl that checked us in, immediately made friends with Josh, who sat blissfully in his buggy saying “Weeeeeee”. She read this as “Oui” and was convinced that he was, in fact, bi-lingual. He probably is. I leant down and explained to him that the word “Upgrade” is understood in every language. Maud grinned. We got a standard room; 518, to be precise. One tries! Check-in, anyway, was a friendly and efficient procedure and we were given a complete, yet concise, breakdown of the hotel’s facilities – backed up by an A4 “Idiot guide” – including restaurants, bars and the leisure centre, which is situated high up on the 30th floor with commanding views over the city. This was exemplary customer service, and a very good welcome.

The bathroom was clean and well presented. No bath robe, but plenty of Sheraton-branded toiletries and a decent bath / shower, lavatory and bidet. It’s Europe, after all! No ‘phone – but do you really want to be on the ‘phone when you’re “washing your bits” in the bidet? Personally, I’d say no!

It would, of course, have been negligent of me not to visit the bar and – for the benefit of my readers, as always – we did so. The O-bar, situated on the ground floor is very stylish, indeed and is probably a very good starting point if dining at the hotel’s first-floor signature restaurant, “Crescendo”, to which there is direct escalator access. Dimly lit, with a blue theme following the Bombay Sapphire Gin brand, it was an upbeat yet relaxed place in which to enjoy a couple of drinks. I had a beer; Amanda went for a “Banshee” (being a banana-based cocktail). We concluded with excellent Brandy Alexanders and retired to bed, with 33.50 Euros being added to our bill.

All in all, this was an excellent hotel, at a superb price – and it comes with my very strong recommendation. One last tale – on check-out, Maud, the receptionist, ran through my bill and everything seemed fine. She hit the print button on the computer but must have missed, seemingly deleting my bill. It does them great credit that they had sufficient IT skills to be able to retrieve the details within minutes. In the intervening time, I tried to get Josh to mutter the phrase “Personne n’a besoin de savoir” (nobody needs to know). Again, Maud grinned broadly as she handed over my retrieved bill! Ah well – you can’t win all of the time!