Good Hotel Guide
Hostels and Hotels in Bristol
Do you have a hotel or B&B in any of these locations then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.
Ashley, Axbridge, Banwell, Bishopston, Bishopsworth, Brislington East, Brislington West, Bristol, Cabot, Cheddar, Clevedon, Clifton East, Cotham, Easton, Eastville, Filwood, Frome Vale, Hartcliffe, Henbury, Hengrove, Henleaze, Hillfields, Horfield, Kingsweston, Lawrence Hill, Wedmore, Weston-Super-Mare, Winscombe
For UK travelers going abroad, we recommend Tenerife, with feel of the UK yet all the sun of Tenerife. Read an extract below from More Ketchup than Salsa, the story of a English couple who left the UK to set up life in Tenerife. Info on how to buy the book can be found below.
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Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.
Short Extract
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Move those towels,’ the president had bellowed, following murmurs of community discontent. The timeshare reps were also none too happy. Trying to persuade stubborn holidaymakers to invest in ‘a piece of paradise’ wasn’t made easier when paradise looked like a Chinese laundry. Being community president is a thankless task. It’s a post that requires a thick skin, an authoritative tone and the ability to keep warring nations apart during disputes over what television channels should be made available to the community. Who in their right mind would want to stir up the dust as chief castigator and troubleshooter in such a paradisiacal environment, and all for no reward, neither verbal nor financial? Well, those who feel at a loss once retirement strips them of any authority. A retired headmaster for one. Roger certainly revelled in the role. Rarely would he be seen without a clipboard on his daily tours of inspection, jotting down notes and taking offenders’ names should the opportunity to formally chastise arise.
Ashley, Axbridge, Banwell, Bishopston, Bishopsworth, Brislington East, Brislington West, Bristol, Cabot, Cheddar, Clevedon, Clifton East, Cotham, Easton, Eastville, Filwood, Frome Vale, Hartcliffe, Henbury, Hengrove, Henleaze, Hillfields, Horfield, Kingsweston, Lawrence Hill, Wedmore, Weston-Super-Mare, Winscombe
You couldn’t say no. It wasn’t worth the argument. It’s an unwritten law that to refuse a beer from a holidaymaker causes great offence like turning your nose up at sheep’s testicles during a Bedouin feast. Well, almost. Unless you’ve deep-rooted aspirations to join Alcoholics Anonymous, it’s surely reasonable to not want to drink every single night. And although the calories flooded off in the kitchen, accepting beery gifts seven nights a week was a sure way to acquire the familiar expat gut. The gut’ is just one of the attributes of the expat crowd. In a holiday resort they always have a certain demeanour that makes them stand out from the holidaymaker. It’s not just the difference in confidence from knowing ‘the street’. More often than not, there is also a physical distinction. Usually this is manifested in a tasteless surfeit of gold jewellery in an attempt to distract the focus from deep-set wrinkles on leathery skin. The male of this species often has a stomach like a deflating space-hopper, due to a combination of too much time on his hands and a sub-culture where the sun sets over the yardarm as soon as the Rice Crispies have stopped crackling. Within this sub-culture exists a micro-culture. The BBs, or Big heads and Blaggards, are often seen frequenting the British bars. The BBs are afflicted not only with the physical traits mentioned above; from the moment they wake to the moment they start dribbling on the pillow (and beyond, for the worst cases), they have a compulsive obsession to bore the arse off those unfortunate enough to wander into conversational proximity with tales of their business acumen.
Four full breakfasts and a scrambled egg on toast. Then two full, and two bacon sandwiches.’ Joy looked around at the mess but could see my eyebrows were raised and said no more. The eggs were spitting viciously at me when Joy returned. ‘Joe, the health inspectors are here.’ I turned around. Over Joy’s shoulder I could see two teenage girls, one of them holding a clipboard. I wondered for a second if it was a wind-up. Them?’ I asked, waving a spatula at the two girls who had now started giggling.