Talk about what happened in the morning. Go on, you'll feel better (actually, you probably won't, but I'll feel better, which certainly works for me).

Last small, privately run, hotel I stayed in had curtains round everything: dressing table; sink; bath. Made one think about apocryphal tales of Victorian prudery, piano legs and suchlike. They also had a stuffed owl above the reception desk and a number of "best Mercedes saloon in class" awards dating back to the early 1980s in the dining room. That was a private trip; for work I always end up staying in bland chain hotels that leave one with absolutely nothing to say, for or against. A friend is getting married in July (I'm best man) and the only hotel nearby is run by a family who also run a takeaway Indian restaurant from the dining room. I have great hopes for the anecdotes I might get out of that one.

I won't nag about how you never post - otherwise I end up sounding like Maureen Lipman in a BT advert - but pleased to see you are still around and about. More please.