The reviews for the Cotwolds hotel were amazing, but the longer that JC and I stayed there, the less inclined we were to recommend it ourselves. The two owners were rather creepy, following us around everywhere. When they complained about the state of our bedroom I was tempted to reply that they should worry less about guests’ clothes lying heaped on the floor, and more about the damp coming in through the mouldy walls. It was also ridiculous that I had been obliged to wash my hair using the bottom drawer of a chest as a basin.

We were just going into dinner (very late at 9pm) when we bumped into LF and two friends. I pulled L into the ladies to warn her about the hotel and its poor service.

Later, while trying to catch a bus in the middle of nowhere, I got into a fight over the last two fish fingers offered for sale by a roadside pedlar.