Bed and Breakfast England is a wonderful country to travel in. Varied landscape, fascinating history, grand market towns, beautiful old villages. Explore it slowly, so you have time to appreciate the subtly changing views and weather. Walking our huge rural footpath network, with a rucksack, is a good speed. So is travelling by car on a Bank Holiday, because the traffic means you can only go at walking pace. But where to stay? Suppose you arrive in a small town after a day's travelling. In Europe, you easily find a cheap hotel. You leave your things, and spend all evening out. You walk around the main square, along with the entire population of the town; sit at a pavement bar; enjoy a leisurely restaurant meal. The only part of the hotel room you use is the bed. It is probably creaky and not very comfortable, but its primary purpose is not sleep. England is different. It's too cold and wet for pavement bars or mass evening strolls. So hotels have to provide lots of facilities: satellite TV, luxury bathroom, mini-bar, hair dryer, trouser press. (We find this funny. Say the words 'Corby trouser press' in the context of hotel rooms and we laugh. Nobody knows why. Try it.) And a very comfortable, non-creaky bed. That makes our hotels expensive in comparison. No problem for business travellers on expenses, a sales rep from Corby for example; but too costly for many holidaymakers. So we have our own characteristic solution: Bed and Breakfast, or just 'B&B'. It costs around £15-£20 per person (a hotel would be two, even three times as much). You arrive in the evening, stay in a room in someone's house, and get a big cooked breakfast the next morning before leaving. It's an easy way to meet English people, see how we live, and how we make our homes. Every B&B is different and most of them very pleasant. The breakfasts, on the other hand, are almost always the same and not always pleasant: oozy grey sausages, limp bacon, and fried eggs that were apparently cooked in a trouser press. You will be asked what time you want breakfast, but rarely what you would like to eat. Finding a B&B is easy. A town's Tourist Information office will book one for you. If it's shut, there will probably be a list outside with prices and phone numbers. If there's no list, you can wander round and look for a B&B sign outside a house. If it's full they'll usually know of others to try. You can ask in a pub if they know where to find a B&B. Don't be shy - everyone will be very helpful. Perhaps it's because they feel you are honorary 'residents'. Or perhaps because they know that, without a mini-bar, you'll be back in the pub spending money half an hour later. Don't spend too much there. First, because you need some cash or a cheque to pay your B&B next morning: they rarely take credit cards. Second, because long nights in a pub and enormous greasy breakfasts don't mix well. There are four types of B&B. Lady with cat A normal, private, modern house on the fringes of the town. You get the room her son used to sleep in, before he got married and moved to London. Many of his books are still there. (A peek under the bed can yield some very interesting books...) The lady is nice, friendly, wistful: she runs B&B mostly for the chance to chat. Your room door has no key, but you get one for the front door. She says to come and go as you please, but you know she'll be in bed by 11 so you don't want to make too much noise later on. The house is cosy and full of things which smell just a little unpleasant: stale pot-pourri, over-scented soaps, ancient carpets. And the cat. The Farm In the quiet country outside the town, with a large hand-painted 'B&B' sign. No-one seems to be around. Eventually the farmer's wife appears, cheerful and looking a little surprised. You get a large room, maybe in a purpose-built block: B&B is a sideline to bolster the damaged beef business. You have to drive into town for the evening - fortunately there is a petrol station nearby. She is just as elusive next morning. She's getting the eggs for breakfast. From her farm? No, from the petrol station shop along the road. The pub Oldish building right in the centre of town. Ramshackle rooms with floors sloping so much you can't work out which storey you're on. After a couple of pints downstairs the floors seem to have straightened out. The townhouse A large oldish house on a main road with several rooms and lots of stairs. Gaudy leaflets are laid out in the hall offering 50p off entry to attractions 30 miles away that are closed tomorrow. At breakfast, you see lots of other guests. You aren't sure whether to ignore them in embarrassed silence, say hello, or chat enthusiastically about why they're here. (They aren't sure either. Perhaps a smile, nod and 'hello' is best.) The best thing about B&Bs is not the B, or the B. You get a look inside real houses and people, with all the good and bad points that make us what we are. And we all love talking about B&Bs we've stayed in. That time we had towels like the Turin Shroud; that farm where the chicken that laid our breakfast eggs wandered into the kitchen; that collapsing wardrobe; that lady's bizarre decor; that night chatting to 3am over whisky with our hosts... You might not get pavement cafes or evening strolls from a tour of England, but B&Bs give you something we value even better - a good story.

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