Our lodgings were basic but comfortable and I took the opportunity to have a brief nap in order to recover from the travails of our journey. When I awoke, it was to find the bird had flown. I performed a perfunctory toilette and went in search.
I found him in the bar in earnest discourse with a rather comely barmaid who already seemed to have become accustomed to the rhythm of his drinking and was sliding schooners of ale across the polished wooden surface without need of any request.
“A three star establishment only, I’m afraid. And, apart from ourselves, it would appear that the clientele is of a decidedly lower order. Probably East German or Slavic, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“The guest book?”
“You do me a disservice. The lack of any single malt gives the star and the fact that all the spirits are kept under refrigeration should tell you all you need to know of the standard of guest. Should you need further verification, cast your eyes about you. What do you see? Acres of heaving female décolletage promising sweaty delights for an extortionate fee? I think not. Eastern Europeans on very tight expense accounts, therefore. The only plus I have thus far been able to ascertain is the fact that this rather attractive wench has allowed herself to be persuaded that this guest at least would prefer his glass of refreshment without the standard thirty percent froth content. A small triumph but a victory nonetheless. Do be so kind and pay the girl, would you? I must away to bed."