Saturday 23^rd October 2010

All week I’ve been in Yorkshire. Perfectly extraordinary. Very few gays or indeed variegation of any kind. I’m starred at. The Gay Mother, 86, is with. She’s never seen York Minister. That’s why we’re here.

The first three nights we were at Hob Green, a country house hotel near Harrogate. I was dreading it. Only £100 a night including dinner and known to be 3 stars.

Three stars is somehow the worst. Almost better two.

My room was like being inside one of those M & S smoked salmon roulades (see graphs) but really and sadly I couldn’t complain. The bathroom had a window, was new, the downstairs drawing room was grand, the food perfectly good. I didn’t feel utterly abandoned and neglected. Remarkable really, for £100 a night.

In the dining room, it was hush and carpet as if a deathbed. You could hear every creak and slow heave of the clapped-out het couples’ last gasps at conversation.

But a Poor Little Rich Gay was not to be defeated. ‘What grasses are you planning for your borders next summer?’ I said to the Gay Mother. ‘If I’m spared….’ the Gay Mother began, as she usually does nowadays. Low and behold, at the next table, within seconds, a sudden new topic: ‘I never did find out about my miscanthus,’ the woman said (that’s a kind of grass, you see.) Well, we know where she was getting her inspiration from. I tried a few more times: the Late Queen Mother, fried eggs, the Pope… it wasn’t long before next door were chiming in. On the whole I thought it wise to avoid penis enlargement, as a topic.

But best of all was name-dropping. The Gay Mother had an excellent run on when Eleanor Bron came to Aunt Bestie’s funeral. Another night it was my turn, how I’ve met both the Fat Ladies.

Total silence at the neighbour table. They were agog.

Inside an M & S Smoked Salmon Roulade - My Hotel Room at Hob Green, Yorkshire

Bedroom Pink - My Hotel Room at Hob Green Yorkshire

Bathroom Tile Detail at Hob Green Yorkshire. What Would Bruce McBain Say?