For most people a hotel is somewhere to stay between extended periods at home. For me it’s precisely the opposite. I spend end at least two thirds of the year on the road, and in hotel beds of various shapes, sizes and forms. Incredulously this ridiculously pleasurable pastime equates with work – reporting on global hotel news, design and trends.



When I’m not in a hotel, I am at that obscure place called home surrounded by little take home memories of my life in hotels … shampoos, shoe bags and shiners; note pads, key cards, drink coasters and matchboxes; Do Not Disturb and Please Clean My Room signs.

I have a fetish for such mementos. They reassure me that I will soon be on my way again – towards Destination Hotel. I am not entirely miserable at a fixed address. In fact I rather like nesting in for a short time. Only I generally prefer to do so at somebody else’s home, where there is less risk of me stopping in my tracks too long.

As a carriage of my travelling life, I find hotels infinitely fascinating. For the people one encounters, the astounding nuances both they and their owners don, and the extraordinary places in which they are found. Hotels provide me with what I estimate to be one of the greatest gifts of life – the feeling of being temporarily at home while constantly on the move.

My aim is to share with you here the hotel gems of my life. Those which stay engraved on the memory like footprints in sand, and never fade with time. Those you return to time and time again, and feel as much at home as you did the first. Thank you for joining me. Bon voyage and bon séjour!



The Best Hotel
of My Life



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