When I returned to London this past May, I was teeming with anticipation. After studying in the British capital in 2012, I had spent two long years yearning for the buzz, the sophistication, the culture, the charm! I stepped off the plane at Heathrow after a long, delayed flight, and with coffee in hand, hopped on the tube and found my hostel. I had chosen this place because I knew the location was super central, within walking distance of most places I wanted to revisit, but not in a particularly touristy area of the city. I sauntered into the hostel, which really was in a great location, but immediately knew it was a very “hostel-y” hostel… by far, the worst accommodations I have ever stayed in. All I’ll say about that place is that it was in Russell Square, but it was NOT a smart decision to stay there.
Our itinerary was London-Prague-London, so while in Prague, I spontaneously booked a room in the most darling bed & breakfast in Notting Hill for when we returned to London and it was the BEST. SPLURGE. EVER.
Most people are aware that Notting Hill is a particularly quaint (and particularly pricey!) neighborhood in London, whether they’ve experienced it for themselves or simply seen the Hugh Grant film. This bed & breakfast was smack dab in the middle of the cuteness – and the house was so down-to-every-last-detail English I almost couldn’t stand it. But of course, I could stand it. I really, really could. After a few days I was already forming fantasies about how I could make this a more permanent stay.
SO pink and SO darling! Look at that tub! After the basement concrete floor shower dungeon that we were forced to endure in the hostel just a few days before, this was heavenly. Let it be known I took more baths (with accompanying tea) in that tub than were necessary for basic human hygiene.
Every morning, the owners of the b&b knocked on my door at promptly 9am and rolled in this little cart of bread and cheese and cereal and coffee. By day 4 or so, I was definitely used to the luxury and knew how difficult it would be to give up when I got back to the US.
So if you’re ever in London & want to stay in an intimate little place in a great part of the city, look up Dawson Place bed & breakfast (I’ve also seen it referred to as Juliet’s Place – the name of the owner). The lack of loud, smelly Frenchmen, the clean bed sheets and abundance of working outlets made it well worth the few extra