by TIM ROSS
Is there any more ridiculous form of accommodation than the Bed and Breakfast?
To get yourself in this whirlwind sector of the hospitality game all you need is a floral doona cover for a bed in the spare room, a crystal bowl full of quality street chocolates, a decanter of port and a desire to torture complete strangers by making them eat overcooked eggs at a communal breakfast table.
To be fair that’s probably over simplifying things. You also need an ornate hanging sign that elevates your home to a Château, cottage or estate. Throw in a southern highlands affectation to your voice and a desire to manhandle pot pourri on a daily basis and you’re in business.
I understand that one of the attractions of running one enables you to meet new and interesting people, but would you really want to see complete strangers wandering down your hallway at 2am in an ill fitting robe?
They aren’t much fun to stay at either. It’s a bit like paying to stay at relatives without the joy of bitching about non-present family members.