My experiences with the "TwentySix!" hostel.

Normally I don't take much notice of my accommodation. I mentioned my hostel in Doolin because of the ... interesting advice given to me by the owner. Typically I use a hostel for sleep and that's it. If if fulfills its pupose I'm happy and I forget it.
TwentySix, in Coleraine, was different.
Charitably I would say that the running of the hostel is laissez-faire. Less charitably, but more accurately, I would call it a shambles.
I arrived at the hostel at some time in the early afternoon. Like many small independent hostels it's just a re-purposed, unobtrusive house in an ordinary street. Upon entering I noticed three things - firstly that it was quite modern and nice, but secondly there was no sign of an office or check-in. And thirdly, for that matter, there was no sign of any staff. Wandering around I found a note on the dinner table. This form of communication would become quite familiar. The note said to call the number indicated any time of night or day if I needed anything. I dialed it and couldn't get through. I realized that this was probably because I was using a SIM from the republic of Ireland to call a Northern Irish number. So I needed to add the UK dialing code, which I didn't know. Luckily there was a computer right next to me, turned on and connected to the internet. Bear in mind I had just come in off the street and there was nobody present in the whole hostel. So I googled the number I needed and called it. After about one ring I was greeted by a rambling voice with a thick Northern Irish accent. Somewhere in there I thought I heard the word "hostel", which was the only way I was confident I had called the right number.
"Uuuhhh... I'm at the hostel and want to check in."
"Ooohh! Yeah! Sure sure, great. Sorry I'm not there - I was out on the piss last night. What's your name?"
Filled with confidence I told him who I was.
"Okay, your room's not ready yet, but you can just leave your stuff in the kitchen and I'll be there to do your room in half an hour. You're in room 5."
Okay, I guess I could live with that. I keep all my important belongings on my person at all times so I didn't have too much issue with leaving my backpack there. I headed out the door on my way to the Giant's Causeway. Two steps down the street my phone rings.
"Hi, Bjorn? It's James again." apparently that was his name "I just remembered you're actually in room 3, and that should be ready. The key's just hanging above the fridge."
I head back inside and sure enough the key was just dangling on the wall above the small bar fridge in the kitchen, where any old bozo could walk in and grab it. I grab it and tramp up the stairs to find room 3 was definitely not ready. I drop my stuff off anyway and leave another note beside James' letting him know. I also leave the key, not particularly confident he has a master key, or perhaps that it's inexplicably at his grandmother's house in Trallee or something.
So then I went off to visit the Causeway and Bushmills. I return to find, again, no James present. There is another note on the table, however, informing my that my room's ready and a receipt, hand-written on a sheet from a notepad, for the balance which I had yet to pay. So I spend a bit of time getting settled, making dinner and writing my post about the Causeway and Bushmills, and just as I'm heading out the door to find another pub for my challenge the elusive James arrives, full of beans and more than a little bit scattered. After paying him for my stay we have an energetic conversation about his plans to yet again hit the turps tonight and telling me which bars to go to and which to avoid. We then part ways again. Later on that evening, after returning from just a short escapade, I decided to sit down and watch a DVD. Half-way through my phone rings. A very drunken Irish voice is on the other end, and it takes me about a minute to realize it's James (I've received a few wrong numbers on this SIM). He doesn't know who he has called, but he's vaguely aware that it's someone staying at the hostel. He's totally paranoid that he's forgotten to lock the doors. He had already told me in great length earlier that I have to make sure the doors are all locked by 11 o'clock. At this stage it's only about 10:30. Still, he makes me go to them all to check that they are indeed locked. They are. Very relieved he thanks me heartily and the phone conversation ends. I'm not surprised not to see him at breakfast the next morning.