Eight Rooms

Dear diary,

Gosh, writing those words makes me feel like a little girl again... I should get straight to the point, I've been having trouble sleeping. I can't actually remember the last time I had a good night's rest, and I fear it's having a negative impact on the hotel. Fewer guests are staying; I'm sure they're picking up on my foul mood, and I keep forgetting those little conveniences that keep us at five stars - the complementary chocolates on the pillows, folding the towels into swans, properly restocking the mini fridges, and I always end up burning the bacon at breakfast.

I've spoken to a therapist about it, and she proposed a creative solution - I should try sleeping in other rooms around the hotel and see if anything changes.

I'm not looking forward to the extra laundry, but if it works, I think one less room is worth the cost.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Room 1 - The Scandinavian Suite

Dear diary,

I slept in room one last night - the first room Elizabeth and I decorated together. The design was inspired by our trip to a friend's wedding in Iceland. Come to think of it, it's where we met, or re-met I suppose after spending eight years between different high schools and colleges. We spent a lovely week exploring, just the two of us, and we picked up some handmade wool shawls.

Finding Scandinavian colours for furnishings is easy these days, as it seems to be the in-thing everywhere. But I couldn't help finding this room rather cold. Even with the log fire, a pair of fleece socks and a knitted blanket, the blues, greys, and mustards felt too much like a Bed and Breakfast and not enough like a home.

Total sleep: 3 hours

Quality: Poor

Room 2 - The Rio Suite

Dear diary,

Aah, room two. So fun to design - it boasts the bold and bountiful colours of Carnival, with space to samba, and its own mini bar for cocktails at any time of the night. Hiking up Sugarloaf Mountain had always been at the top of Elizabeth's bucket list, so we went after graduation. Those evenings were magical, though I don't think we quite captured it properly. Looking at it now, the décor is rather loud. Maybe that's how we liked it back then, but I'm far too old for all that now.

Total sleep: 2 hours, then fell asleep for another hour after watching TV

Quality: Decent

Room 3 - The Alpine Suite

Dear diary,

I must say, the Alpine Suite was much nicer in theory. In practice, sleeping inside it just reminded me of how sick I got during our tour around Mont Blanc. Elizabeth insisted on that cheese and wine evening - turns out lactose intolerance, poor constitution, and mile after mile of uphill biking are a terrible combination. I had intended on proposing on that trip, instead I spent much of it between the bathroom and the hospital.

Total sleep: 2 hours

Quality: Dreadful

Room 4 - The Fuji Suite

Dear diary,

My first pleasant night in weeks! The calm, meditative décor, drinking tea with my feet kept toasty under the kotatsu, and the feeling of floating upon a plush futon. It was a little difficult getting out of bed, but for the first time in ages, I didn't want to. I would've been happy laying in bed all day if I could. Of course, I'd done the same with Elizabeth. Climbing the mountain then unwinding in the onsen, and Elizabeth fell in love with matcha-flavoured everything. We had lain in bed late into the morning. No schedules, no work, just us and the quiet. We should have gone back. We said we'd go again.

Total sleep: 8 hours!

Quality: Marvellous

Room 5 - The Shire Suite

Dear diary,

I adore this room! It takes me back to our honeymoon, when Elizabeth and I went to the other side of the world to visit Hobbiton - the place that was inspired by the land on our own doorstep! Everything in this room was intended to feel homely and comfortable. Rich colours, genuine oak, everything handmade, and just a tad on the smaller side.

Total sleep: 6 hours (I did spend most of the night re-reading The Hobbit.)

Quality: Fantastic

Room 6 - The Yellowstone Suite

Dear diary,

There are some wonderful memories soaked into this furniture - the rustic, hand-carved rocking chair, the huge bed, even the mounted elk antlers have grown on me. At the same time, this room continues to stir up regret in my heart. It was where everything started to go wrong.

We'd just bought the hotel. We thought it would be a great project - different rooms in different styles, making people from all over the world feel welcome and appreciated, but instead it just seemed to cause problem after problem. Building surveys, contractors fees, damp and mould, weeks of stripping and painting, not to mention the anxiety that came with giving up our jobs - knowing that if we failed, we'd have nothing to fall back on.

Even when we finished our first three rooms and I booked us that impromptu trip, neither of us could escape the worry. Voices were often raised, and every conversation became about our finances. It would be our last big trip.

Total sleep: 3 hours on and off (lots of tossing and turning)

Quality: Poor

Room 7 - The Lakes Suite

Dear diary,

The only room designed after the land outside our door. A friend offered us a free stay in a glamping pod just a few miles down the road, since we had no money for another hiking holiday. It was nice getting the chance to see all that we'd glanced over before. We knew the Lake District was beautiful, that was the whole reason for buying the hotel, but neither of us had explored it properly.

Looking around this room - the peg rug, the antique armchair and dresser, the floral curtains and bedspread, I was reminded of how small that pod felt. We took our walks separately, we ate our meals in silence, and only I went on the boat over Windermere. Elizabeth insisted on taking the trail around the lake. Why did I get so mad about it? Why did we end up fighting over breakfast?

I was happy to close the door on this room. I think I might retire it permanently.

Total sleep: Maybe an hour? The mattress was too lumpy.

Quality: Dismal

Room 8 - The Hebridean Suite

Tartan sheets and blankets, watercolour paintings with seashell frames, a recliner beside a full bookshelf and a small gas fire. My first trip without her.

I remember sitting on a bench along the edge of the bay, watching the boats bob on the waters, and herons fishing in the shallows. Alone. I met some lovely people there, sure, and I saw some magical sights - a pod of orcas on the horizon, red deer and wild goats grazing on the heath. I even spent a night in a bothy, just listening to the rain and wind. Yet without her, it all felt so empty.

We'd invested everything into the hotel. Not just time and money, but our marriage too. I shouldn't have let it fall apart like it did. If we'd gone for counselling, or sold up and gone for something smaller, maybe we could have made it work.

I lay awake all last night, as rain pattered on the windows, exactly as I'd done before, and I couldn't stop thinking about how things turned out. Maybe it was for the best, yet I can't forgive myself for the way we'd ended it. Even if we weren't the best match, we could have stayed friends.

Total sleep: None, but it wasn't the room's fault

Quality: Melancholy

I think I need to call her.