Читать книгу The Pennine Way - the Path, the People, the Journey онлайн

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Mind you, if bed and breakfast is by definition peculiar, that’s nothing compared to the phenomenon that is the Pennine Way B&B landlady. After I had arrived the previous afternoon, weary and slightly footsore, I went through the customary greetings and then made the grievous mistake of imagining I could simply walk down the tiled corridor towards my room still clad in boots and rucksack. After all, my boots were clean after walking through the town and my pack was completely dry. Short and slight but with a commanding voice that could probably be heard the other side of the valley, Miss B announced that boots (whatever their condition) were to be removed before entering the premises. That’s perfectly fine, I thought, as I sat outside the back door on a bench evidently provided for that purpose. A wide, shallow tray lined with newspaper was produced, on which I was invited to place my boots. I then stood up and shouldered my pack, but was promptly informed that rucksacks were not allowed to be worn when inside the house but instead had to be carried in the arms in a forward position. I stood, slightly stupefied, wondering what on earth I had let myself in for tonight. I had visions of being stood over in the bath by this officious lady instructing me how to scrub my back. Sensing my bewilderment, Miss B relented and explained that she had had too many pictures knocked off the walls of her narrow landing by young men wearing ‘enormous’ rucksacks. I finally made it to my room, clutching my rucksack before me, and opened the door in trepidation, fearing what other house rules I might inadvertently break.