The best meal of the day. Or so I like to think. We seem to spend a lot of time in a hotels and I always like to judge a hotel by its breakfast. Will they have what I want? And what do I want?

First of all the coffee has to be strong: very strong. Secondly, will they make me an omelette? After that, everything is secondary. I’m not bothered about about fruit or croissants or anything else really, but those two things are paramount. So this morning in the Whateley Hall hotel in Banbury when we went down to breakfast, we were pleasantly greeted, and immediately taking advantage of the kind attention I asked for a double espresso and a plain omelette. we were greeted with smiles and of course, and next time we were served with exactly what we wanted. No problem at all, was the surprising riposte, and to top it all both arrived within minutes. I can assure you this does not happen everywhere.

A couple of months ago we were in quite a grand hotel near Melton Mowbray. The dining room was beautiful, and not too busy. I asked for my usual espresso and plain omelette, and eventually the coffee came. It was all right. My husband had his croissants and whatever and left to go and pack. I was still waiting for my omelette. I finished my coffee. I asked for another one. Which came. i drank it. Tentatively I called the waiter and asked about my omelette. It’s on its way, I was assured. I watched other people come and go, replete with full Englishes. I asked someone else about my omelette. She went to check. Came back to tell me they’d made it but forgotten to serve it!!!! They made me another one. I’d almost lost the will to eat. But eventually it arrived and was actually delicious, enhanced with sourdough toast. and a sprig of something green. All’s well that ends well, I suppose.

Which reminds me – the Holiday Inn in Bolton came up trumps recently. Whereas another supposedly excellent hotel in Bolton refused to make me an omelette. They did agree to make me two poached eggs. They arrived, wobbling perilously, looking exactly like two eyeballs, white and viscous; no adornment, no toast, just two little islands in the centre of a rather large white plate. I’m afraid I burst out laughing, to the bemusement of the boy who brought them. Sorry.