A Tale of Three Traditional...

B&Bs.

Warning: This is a story of woe, sadness, hunger, cluelessness and worse,  a night without beer. It’s a story that needs to be told. If just one person learns from my multiple mistakes, I feel my mission in writing this is complete.

When I decided two months ago to walk the Cotswolds Way, I had neither the knowledge or the patience to deal with the logistics of negotiating 103 miles of U.K. countryside. I bought into a shuttle service who would move my backpack between accommodations along the Way. The accommodations were recommended by the shuttle service. Easy right?

After I paid Company X, my itinerary promptly arrived. Just as promptly, I forgot about it until I had to deal with it. That’s how I roll.

I bought a map, at least.

When I got to the start at Chipping Camden, I reckoned maybe I should look at where I’m going and where I’m staying. Hmmm. Of the nine evenings, I’d be staying in pubs five nights. (British pubs are one stop shopping. They provide accommodations, meals, beers and an English (Yawn!) breakfast in the morning). I’m good with that. The other four nights were to be traditional B&Bs. From past experiences I knew these weren’t “my cup of tea.” 

After eating, drinking and sleeping in a pub in Chipping Camden, I set off for Traditional B&B # One. In about four hours I arrived and knocked on the door. No answer. The door was ajar so I entered, “Hello! Hello!” No one was home. On a desk I noticed a note bearing my name. In a proper and polite way, I was informed I’d be sleeping in the attic. The worst guest room in the house. I know I looked. It was then, that I gazed around. I was in a house of horse-themed hoarders. There were paintings, photos, thirty year old magazines and porcelain statues of beasts of burdens. Where their wasn’t  equine stuff, there was clutter. There were no clean lines. Oh well, at least the town had a pub. 

It was closed.

When the homeowners arrived, I thought surely they would offer me a sandwich knowing the local pub was shuttered. They didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to NAG them. 

That was my sum total of interaction with the owners. My dinner that night was two Clif bars and water. The bed was lumpy too.

I rated this stay “I” for Inhospitable. The best thing about the sleepover was leaving.

B&B # Two was nestled in several paddocks. The closest pub was three miles away. My digs were a newish Mother-in-law bungalow which was detached from the family home. It was bright and clean. It was a do-it-yourself B&B where all my food needs were already there. That is if you like a dinner of frozen pizza or a deli chicken sandwich. Well, at least there were two beers in the refrigerator. 

It was a long night. 

B&B # Three was in a town which had the feel of a suburb. For U.K. standards the town was spanking new. The B&B was somewhat hidden from the street. Inside there were two handymen doing odd jobs but no owner. (Apparently they weren’t there to clean up the mess though). When I asked them of his whereabouts their answer, “He’s at the pub.” It was 1:45 pm. The owner wasn’t there to eat. 

In the morning, the English (Yawn) Breakfast was as hungover as the cook. The egg was served runny with just a hint of salmonella. For this I paid £85 in cash. I rated this B&B “I” for intoxicated. 

I was supposed to have another joyful, charming (yeah right!) sleepover in one more remote B&B. I thought to myself, “Self! No freaking way.” I secured a room in a pub in the lovely town of Wotton-under-Edge. I ended up paying for both places for that one night’s stay. I wasn’t happy about this, but I wasn’t happy sharing too much space with B&B owners either.

So here’s my point. Do your homework. If you don’t want to feel like you are “couch surfing” with strangers and paying them for the displeasure, stay in Pubs. You will even score your own room key!

My job here is now done.

Cheers

Jeff