I’ve stayed in quite a few guesthouses, and something has been bothering me for a while.
You can walk into an absolutely beautiful place. The bed is gorgeous, the linen crisp, the bathroom sparkling, Wi-Fi works, the décor looks like the photographs and everything appears top notch.
Then you try to cook an egg.
Suddenly you discover the only spatula is cracked, the frying pan has seen better days and the pot handles are damaged.
Or you decide to sweep the floor and discover that the broom itself needs washing first.
And that, for me, is where there is often a gap between a guesthouse that looks good and one that has really thought about what it is like to live there, even temporarily.
I think part of the problem is that many of these things are inexpensive, so they become invisible during inspections.
Spatula? Tick.
Pot? Tick.
Broom? Tick.
Mop? Tick.
But nobody picks up the pot to check whether the handle is still secure. Nobody bends the spatula and notices that it has cracked. Nobody looks properly at the broom or mop to see whether the cleaning equipment itself is clean.
A cracked spatula is not much use when you cannot flip an egg to save your life.
And please, guesthouse owners, reconsider non-stick pans unless you are prepared to inspect and replace them regularly. They are going to get scratched. Guests will use the wrong utensils, stack things inside them and generally give them a harder life than they would get in a private kitchen.
Something durable and easy to clean often makes far more sense.
Quality doesn’t necessarily mean expensive.
It means fit for purpose.
The same applies to cleaning equipment.
I have washed more guesthouse brooms and mops than I care to remember.
If the broom is full of old dirt, hair and dust, sweeping with it simply moves somebody else’s dirt around the room.
If a mop is dirty, you are not cleaning the floor. You are spreading dirt and whatever else is sitting in that mop head across it.
Yuk.
Cleaning equipment needs cleaning too.
And then there are things like drains.
A shower can look absolutely spotless while the drain underneath it is blocked. I know this because I travel with my own plunger — yes, really! — and have unfortunately discovered what can be hiding underneath an otherwise sparkling shower.
That is not something you particularly want to see while travelling.
Running the shower for a minute and checking that it drains properly is such a simple turnover check.
Self-catering accommodation needs more than a checklist of kitchen items.
If you provide a kitchen, someone needs to be able to use it comfortably.
You do not need designer cookware.
You do need a decent pot or two with safe handles, a frying pan that is usable, a decent knife, a chopping board, a spatula that isn’t cracked, a can opener that works and enough basic utensils to prepare an ordinary meal.
The smaller things make a difference too.
Two decent dish towels.
A proper dishcloth.
A sturdy dish rack that doesn’t threaten to collapse once you put a couple of plates into it.
And salt and pepper.
One of my most memorable hosts provided proper rock salt in a decent grinder and a good pepper grinder.
It is such a small thing.
But you notice.
There is a world of difference between something being provided because it was on the inventory list and something being chosen because somebody thought, Will my guest actually enjoy using this?
One of our most memorable guesthouse stays was with a woman who had done a lot of business travelling herself.
When she eventually opened her own guesthouse, she filled it with the things she had wished she could find during her travels.
And what a difference that made.
There was a proper first-aid kit and headache tablets.
A comprehensive little sewing repair kit.
An umbrella.
A fire extinguisher.
Makeup-remover cloths.
Feminine hygiene products.
Hot-water bottles.
There was a bottle of wine — with a decent bottle opener.
She had a large combi microwave, which was far more useful for self-catering than the tiny microwaves you so often find.
The kitchen had those decent dish towels, a proper cloth and a sturdy drying rack.
Even the salt and pepper had been thought about.
None of this was extravagant.
That is what struck me.
She had simply travelled enough to know what you sometimes suddenly need when you are away from home.
She wasn’t asking:
“What must a guesthouse have?”
She was asking:
“What have I wished I had when I was travelling?”
That is an entirely different approach to hospitality.
Another surprisingly common omission is a bathroom waste bin.
For me, that should be standard.
Guests should not need to carry personal bathroom waste into the kitchen because there is nowhere appropriate to dispose of it.
It is about convenience, yes, but also privacy and dignity.
Mirrors are another simple one.
Nobody needs an extravagant designer mirror, but there should be a decent-sized mirror above the basin, positioned where it can actually be used.
And where do the toiletries go?
If there is no vanity cupboard below the basin, at least provide a small shelf or some usable surface.
Otherwise everything ends up balanced precariously around the washbasin.
The memorable host I mentioned earlier had a decent-sized vanity cupboard.
Again: not luxury.
Just thoughtful.
Bedroom cupboards often provide lots of hanging space but nowhere for luggage.
That makes very little sense when the person using the cupboard has, by definition, arrived with luggage.
Our thoughtful host had organised the cupboards with proper storage space for suitcases as well as clothes.
It sounds insignificant until you stay somewhere without it and spend a week stepping around an open suitcase on the floor.
Sometimes good hospitality simply comes down to asking:
Where is the guest going to put this?
Their luggage.
Their toiletries.
Their wet towels.
Their rubbish.
Their phone while it charges.
Their dishes after washing them.
When everything has a sensible place, staying somewhere becomes easier.
Here is another issue that I suspect most guests never see because it happens while housekeeping is taking place.
The housekeeper arrives with clean bedding and towels and puts them on the unmade bed.
Then the old pillowcases come off.
One by one, the pillows get put onto the floor.
Next the duvet needs stripping, so the clean bedding that was sitting on the bed has to move.
And very often that ends up on the floor too.
By the time everything is finished, the bed looks beautifully clean and fresh.
But the process used to get there was anything but ideal.
I recently watched this happen and grabbed the clean linen and pillows before they all ended up on the floor. I put them on the couch and offered to put the clean pillowcases on myself.
It occurred to me that the solution was ridiculously simple.
Two chairs.
One clean chair for fresh linen and towels.
Another safe surface for the pillows while the bed is stripped.
Dirty linen goes directly into its laundry bag or designated container.
Nothing clean needs to touch the floor.
I don’t necessarily blame the housekeeper.
If this is how someone was shown to change a room — or nobody showed them another way — that is what they will continue doing.
This is a training issue.
There is a difference between teaching somebody to make a room look clean and teaching them to maintain a clean workflow.
For guesthouse owners, I think this is worth watching occasionally.
Don’t only inspect the finished room.
Watch how it gets there.
Good hospitality is not only about what guests see.
It is also about the processes behind what they see.
Some problems move beyond inconvenience.
A pot with damaged handles can cause burns.
Water coming from a hot tap at near-boiling temperature is a scalding hazard.
Brown hot water while the cold water remains consistently clear deserves investigation rather than simply assuming there is a general municipal water problem.
A guest doesn’t need the technical diagnosis.
They need the issue taken seriously and checked by somebody qualified to do so.
The same applies to loose fittings, damaged electrical items, broken washing lines or anything else a host already knows needs repair.
The guest should not have to repeatedly work around known maintenance problems.
There is another kind of friction that has nothing to do with kitchens or bathrooms.
Booking transparency.
Guests are sometimes told, “That is just what Booking.com is doing,” as though the host has no visibility or control at all.
The reality is more complicated.
Booking platforms control parts of the pricing and promotional system, while hosts also manage availability, rate plans, minimum stays and other booking restrictions.
I recently experienced a situation where an eight-night stay initially attracted a good discount. I could not complete the booking immediately and returned a few days later.
Suddenly, the accommodation was unavailable for eight consecutive nights.
It would allow five nights.
So I booked the five.
Immediately afterwards, I searched again and — surprise — I could book the same accommodation for the following three nights.
I therefore ended up with exactly the original eight consecutive nights, only now as two separate bookings and without the original generous rate.
Whatever combination of platform rules, rate settings or availability restrictions caused that, from a guest’s perspective it was confusing.
And this is where transparency matters.
Guests do not necessarily expect a host to override every promotion or platform rule.
But a straightforward explanation goes a long way.
If a particular rate only applies under certain conditions, say so.
If there is a restriction on the calendar, explain it.
If you genuinely don’t know, say that too.
Experienced travellers — and especially experienced hosts travelling as guests — often understand more about these systems than you might expect.
Transparency costs nothing.
Trust is part of hospitality too.
Now before this sounds like an entire article about what hosts should be doing, guests have responsibilities too.
And I feel quite strongly about this.
You cannot be hypercritical of every tiny thing in somebody’s accommodation and then trash the place yourself.
Many accommodation platforms also allow hosts to review guests.
It works both ways.
I always try to leave a guesthouse as neat as reasonably possible.
No, I am not going to professionally clean the room before checking out. That is not what I mean.
But rubbish goes where it belongs.
Things I have used are treated with care.
I don’t leave unnecessary mess.
And I treat somebody else’s property the way I would want somebody to treat mine.
Hosts notice.
I have also seen the other side through a friend who has hosted for years.
Guests sometimes book for one person and quietly bring additional overnight guests without permission.
Then when the host notices, they deny it.
That is not fair either.
Occupancy rules can affect security, insurance, utilities, cleaning, parking, wear and tear and sometimes local regulations.
If someone else needs to stay, ask.
A gracious host considers the comfort of the guest.
A gracious guest considers the property and the person providing it.
Respect needs to travel in both directions.
I also believe guests are more likely to look after a property when they can feel that somebody cared about preparing it for them.
Of course, some people will be inconsiderate regardless.
But there is something about walking into a place where everything has clearly been chosen thoughtfully.
The good towels.
The clean broom.
The proper cookware.
The little sewing kit.
The umbrella tucked away for a rainy day.
The decent salt grinder.
The place for your suitcase.
It quietly communicates:
Someone cares about this space, and someone thought about me being here.
I think that encourages many guests to respond with care of their own.
The more I think about that memorable guesthouse, the more I realise that very few of the things I remember were particularly expensive.
They were simply useful.
Thoughtful.
Clean.
Functional.
They removed little frustrations before we encountered them.
And that is probably my biggest takeaway from spending time in different guesthouses:
It is not necessarily about spending more.
It is about paying attention.
Does the thing work?
Is it clean?
Is it safe?
Where will the guest put their belongings?
What might they unexpectedly need?
How does this space actually feel to live in for several days rather than merely photograph for a listing?
And perhaps most importantly:
Would I be comfortable staying here myself?
Sometimes the difference between an ordinary stay and one you remember years later is nothing more complicated than somebody having asked that question.