I have never given a negative review before for any product or service, because I know everyone needs to pay for their crust. However, my experience at this lodging was such a nightmare, I feel it my duty both to the hostess to make her aware of the impact she had on my week’s stay in Madrid, with the hope that she can/will change her attitude, and to prospective lodgers, who might find the following details helpful in making their choice. Taking practical matters first: (a) The flat and the room are both exceptionally clean and tidy; (b) There is no fan in the bedroom where the temperature was 87oF/30.5oC. A fan is a necessity. (When I ran holiday homes, which I did for eighteen years, I placed a fan in every bedroom.)s (c) The shower is sited within approximately 12 inches of the lavatory pedestal, with a half sliding door facing the pedestal. I didn’t dare try to squeeze in and out of that space, and sufficed with strip washes at the basin for the whole week. If you have a physical handicap or are above average girth, you will not be able to use the shower safely. (d) Neither the bedroom nor the bathroom have locks or bolts on the inside, and are not en-suite. (e) Although there is a standard lamp and a table lamp in the room, neither have a switch reachable from the bed, so one has to get out of bed in the dark and fumble for the switch. Disorientated from a deep sleep, I nearly swept everything off the table. (f) The curtain rail is not screwed into its supports and it fell down on me when I drew the curtain. (g) The curtain is semi-transparent and not much good at keeping out the light at night or the sun in the daytime. (h) I arrived at the street address to find it was a building with four flats. I had not been given a flat number, so I had to ring all the bells. Someone opened the door and I went into the vestibule. No one came down to meet me. Fortunately, while I was wondering what on earth to do, the hostess’s daughter came in off the street and took me up to her mother’s flat. I had been travelling for twelve hours and it wasn’t reassuring not to be met. All these points are easily remedied. What cannot be remedied so easily in the hostess’s attitude and behaviour. Neither Paul whose name is on the sales page nor James who answers the emails is your host. The room is in the flat in which Paul’s wife lives most of the time on her own (he lives in the country). She made it very clear that the flat is her territory. The first day I was there, she was friendly and helpful: taking me to buy a metro ticket, showing me where the supermarket was and having a coffee/tea break together on the way back. And she switched on the main TV so I could watch the Jubilee Memorial service with her. When she switched off the satellite box in error, she didn’t know how to use the controls and I was happy to show her. From then on, her behaviour changed. She grew more and more hostile and clearly resented my presence. I should mention that I am the same age as the hostess (79) so I do understand how difficult it can be to adjust to new circumstances as one grows older, but enough is enough. She turned every little thing into a high drama. I was so terrified of her possible reaction when the curtain rail fell down that I climbed onto the bedside table to put the rail back. Something I should never have done, but it was the lesser of two evils at the time. I couldn’t reach far enough to put the knobs back on the end. When she passed my room a couple of hours later, I told her what had happened. She insisted she would climb up and put the knobs back. I said, “Not while I’m here. It’s much too dangerous.” She is a good six inches shorter than me and I couldn’t reach. So, I suggested, “Perhaps your son would come and fix it for you.” He lives in the flat beneath hers. She spun around like a tiger and retorted, “Why should he?” That blew my mind. I don’t live in a universe where a mother cannot ask her son for help on such a little thing. Another incident, I couldn’t work out how to use the modern roll-up blinds and ended up jamming the blind at the top of its run. “What now?” she asked. “I’ve been doing this for three years and I’ve never had so much trouble with anyone.” She fetched her husband who was helpful and pleasant and showed me how to do it. Another time she went off in a dramatic complaint that she’d never had anyone make so many demands. Just for the record, I made the following requests while I was there up until the last night (more of that later). Notice I use the word “requests”; she used the word “demands”. That is very telling. So, my requests: (a) for a bowl in which to put my mandarines; (b) which towel was I to use to dry my dishes … and that’s all. I was ill from the Sunday night until I left on the Thursday morning, having picked up some nasty bug, probably on the metro. From Sunday night till Tuesday morning when I took an Imodium, I had a nasty tummy bug. Tuesday night it developed into bronchitis and I spent the whole night coping with that. Wednesday morning, I was exhausted but forced myself to get lunch (I had a lot of salad stuff in the fridge but couldn’t face it). My condition deteriorated throughout the afternoon. Knowing I