Wednesday, June 4, 2008

York Bed & Breakfast

My three main criteria for selecting a hotel abroad are:
I must admit that price does have to play a large part, and I do insist on having my own room with a lock on it (no bunk bed dorms in the youth hostel for my camera & computer equipment, thank you.) I also prefer (but am willing to sometimes forego) my own bathroom and shower.
All else being equal, I look for places that offer breakfast and internet. (And air conditioning, but that is really rare, even in 4 star European hotels.)
I don't care two hoots about TV.
The Galtres Lodge has all of the above except the air conditioning. (It has a TV but I've been here 3 days and have yet to turn it on.)
It is a block away from the cathedral, I have a small but clean room with my own bathroom and a bed that has a dip in the middle that made my back ache last night so that I turned the mattress around and expect to sleep better this night.
They do serve a lovely breakfast.
I haven't had grapefruit sectioned and peeled for me by anybody but Mom:

And THESE are, yes they are, kippers!
Kippers are optional, and today I figured I would try them.
They are strong flavored but not too bad.
I found them moderately palatable but would not order them again.
However, if someone served them to me, I would eat them rather than risk hurting feelings.

This is the outside of the Galtres lodge.
It is above a brasserie/restaurant on one of York's cute shopping streets.
My room is the window furthest to the right, British first (American second) story.

And here is the view from my window.
It looks directly out onto Grape Lane, which amuses me very much, as last year in my York perambulatings I learned that in the Victorian era this street was the haunt of prostitutes.
The name reflects this in a dim way but I am not going to write on my blog what 'Grape Lane' is a contraction of; it's too rude, even for a private blog.
If curiosity consumes you you can email me but don't say I didn't warn you.
Anyway, Mom and Dad can sleep peacefully at night because there are no prostitutes now, though an occasional Yorkshire lad or lass does come singing along the street home from the pub around midnight.

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