I MET Basil Fawlty a while back.

This particular version was Austrian though, and not nearly as funny.

My problem was accommodation.

I was on a building job far from home and the small town nearby was only offering the two extremes of very swish bed and breakfast or downright depressing pub digs.

Naturally the horrible pub won.

It's funny what you'll put up with when it's just you. And a bit of deprivation makes you feel tougher.

This was a nasty old deco brick monstrosity, with that graceless ill-proportion that typifies a lot of the period.

The stairs were awkwardly spaced and you couldn't comfortably see over the veranda and the overhead brickwork looked inadequately supported.

And that was all when it was new.

Now, 80 years later, it had the added patina of basic maintenance done at just above shearing-shed level by a long succession of tasteless owners.

Carpets accumulated over decades were matched to each other only by their garishness and covered the mysterious hallway humps that appear in old wooden floors. Odd colours, probably bought as mis-tints.

Toilet tiles cracked and grotty and the ceiling and weird cavernous skylight mouldering from damp above the showers with bases of folded stainless-steel like urinals.

I worked out a bit of a discount with Basil by buying 14 days for the price of 10 and he was showing me the room.

The three locks to get to room three were all stiff and reluctant, as was Basil.

You feel a bit tragic sitting down alone in a room like that.

The furniture was an old ply chest of drawers, with most of the handles missing and peeling varnish.

As if anyone would stay long enough to unpack into it.

The double bed also seemed a bit optimistic for anyone likely to be staying there.

The sheets and pillow had a subtle aroma of old cigar smoke from some ancient linen press. Not much hint of lemon-fresh crispness.

Still, I'd get back late from work and shower in the lukewarm water and flop down and stare at the smoke detector on the ceiling before wandering out in search of a feed.

Eventually I bought an old telly at the op-shop to keep me company.

I told Basil he could have the TV and was happy for anyone to use it in my absences.

I was astonished when he said I had to take it whenever I left. Words were exchanged.

Somehow Basil embezzled the remaining two days of my accommodation and I slept in a paddock under a horse rug.

It was almost funny.