I'm becoming more out of touch with reality as each day passes. This morning I listened to classical music on a plush white couch next to a grand piano as I looked out the window across the rolling countryside. We spent the last night of our English road trip in a luxe B&B in Bath, which included our own private garden entrance, a 4-poster bed and a cast-iron roll-top bath tub.
The private entrance to our room, no big deal:
Best night of sleep ever:
View from breakfast (smoked salmon, amaaazing scrambled eggs, croissants, tea):
I could've stayed in that room forever drinking tea and reading books. A cast-iron bathtub with feet is going on my list of future non-negotiable luxuries. I'm so spoiled.
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