TRUE STORIES FROM A BED & BREAKFAST HOST. I grew up in a B&B since the age of 4, after 20 plus years of having a constant stream of strangers come through the front door. You pick up a story or two....
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One of the worst guests I have ever had was a man from Champagne. He resembled a poor version of Charles Aznavour and is probably the vainest man I have come across. He was here to improve his English as part of a programme to get people back into work after being made redundant.
From the beginning to the end he was a pest. He would emerge from his bedroom when all the guests had gone and the boys were at school, perching himself at the top of the stairs in a jock strap, asking me what my plans for the day were. I simply ignored him and carried on hoovering!
He would also leave suggestive notes all over his room each week on cleaning day. I eventually had enough but my bluntness only seemed to encourage him more. But that was not all, I didn't have much money back then but I had bought some lovely quality bedding to use in my own room.
One day he decided to throw his bright red cashmere socks into my washing machine full of my gorgeous bedding. Low and behold they all turned pink! Instead of offering to pay for a new set he got his wife to drive over from France to get the colour out, which she failed to do. However, I did take some small pleasure in leaving all the notes he had left me over the weeks on a notice board in the hallway for his wife to read.
I had been talking to a few of my other guests about him and his behaviour, saying that he considered himself the "dogs bollocks" and therefore was unlikely to give up. He had asked me to store some wine for him during his stay, and I was so irritated by his attitude and behaviour that between myself, a few guests and a friend we drank the case of wine, very carefully opening and replacing it with Ribena afterwards.
We were all very pleased with ourselves but when it came to his departure, he told me that the wine was a gift for having him to stay!
The Joke was on me as it was a rather expensive case of French red. Funny how things come back to bite you in the backside...but at least he and his jock strap were gone, which was a gift in itself.
