The Queensberry Hotel, on Russel Street, is in the middle of Britain's "hottest" town, Bath. The 29-room luxury property is a five-minute stroll from the Roman Baths.
Apart from its location? Its unique house rules. According to a list found in every guest room: "No indoor horse riding is allowed in the hotel. Motorcycle helmets must be removed before attempting to eat or drink. Handstands and cartwheels are permitted only with the management's prior written approval. Gentlemen whose trousers fail to reach the ankle may be discouraged from wearing white socks. Anyone overheard trying to sell time-share properties may be asked to leave."
OK, OK, it's just a bit of fun; those of a more serious nature might be interested to know that the 8th Marquess of Queensberry built the Georgian townhouse in 1771. If that name sounds familiar, it is because his son, the eccentric ninth marquess, drafted the rules of boxing, published in 1867, and the Marquess of Queensberry rules still govern the sport.
It's funny you should ask: the Olive Tree Restaurant, in the basement of the hotel, will be at the centre of Bath's FoodFeast, which runs for all of next month. A protege of chef Heston Blumenthal, head chef Chris Cleghorn will be serving his signature dishes, such as guinea fowl with gewurztraminer sauce; a 62c duck egg; crab lasagne; quail with charred sweetcorn purée, mange tout and popcorn; and pan-fried halibut with rosemary and parmesan gnocchi, snails and shaved fennel. Across town, more than 160 events will see other top chefs and experts give demonstrations and talks involving all manner of food and drink. Should you visit after the festival, it's worth bearing in mind that Bath is the baking capital of Britain; no trip to ancient Aquae Sulis is complete without an exploration of the town's tea shops, cafes, hidden courtyards and back alleys.
Err … exactly - I think. It's around the corner from Pulteney Bridge, the Jane Austen Centre, the Royal Crescent and all that cultural, mellow, honey-hued Georgian stuff Bath is famous for. The hotel is a very British, resolutely quirky and determinedly informal place, with accommodation designed to feel like the luxurious spare room in the home of a best friend with taste. The bathrooms are "shrines to blissful indolence". And the staff aren't bad either.
Far from it. (Although Stefano, from Milan, who is in charge of the valet parking does.) They're all terrifically cosmopolitan and courteous and there to remind you about playing by the house rules.