It wasn’t exactly a Travelodge.

I was sent to Coventry this week. Not figuratively in the sense of being ostracised, but literally. I was at Coombe Abbey just outside Coventry for a two-day work conference and, after a long first day, I was looking forward to checking in to my room and just flopping before preparing for a 1920s-themed dinner.

Ordinarily I have no great expectations of hotel accommodation. Okay, so Coombe Abbey, a historic grade 1-listed country house set in 500 acres of parkland on the site of a 12th century monastery, was obviously a cut above your average chain hotel. But I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by a wrought iron spiral staircase when I finally managed to get my key-card working properly. (Remember when hotels gave you actual keys that worked first time? I miss those days.)

Intrigued, I had to investigate what was at the top of this particular stairway to heaven. The answer? A spacious bathroom larger than our bedroom at home with a free-standing claw-foot bath and a separate super-sized shower/steam room. Obviously I had to give both a try. It would have been rude not to, right?

I always miss Heather and the kids on those thankfully infrequent nights when I have to stay away with work. I have to admit, I missed them a little bit less than usual as I settled into my hot bath.

Oh, and seeing as you asked, as a bonus here’s me in my 1920s gangster get-up. Al Capone I ain’t.

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