You may have noticed that things have been a bit quiet here lately. I promise it is not because I've been feeling uninspired or lazy. No, rather I've been recovering from what Paul now refers to as "the dreaded leak".
Last week, as we were preparing to receive one of our favorite dinner guests (i.e throwing stuff in the bedroom that had been littering the living room), we discovered a thoroughly soaked bed. Gazing upward, we saw a ceiling mangled by a leaky pipe and a slow but steady stream of water dripping onto our already wet sleeping spot.
Paul did his fellow Brits proud and kept an admirably stiff upper lip, and I had no choice but to follow his good example. We sat down to enjoy some delicious ginger miso chicken with Alex. Mirth and good conversation ensued, and presently we received an email from our landlord telling us to check into a hotel that night on him. And thus we found our silver lining...the discovery of a charming, reasonably priced hotel mere blocks from our apartment.
Gild Hall is a gem hidden on a tiny downtown Manhattan street. With a hunting lodge motif and quiet location it feels like a country retreat.
For those who are uncomfortable with taxidermy, I promise the hunter theme does not extend far enough to include actual heads. The antler chandelier in the entry hall and the faux rhinoceros in the lobby are the extent of it.
And, whether they are real or not, the ubiquitous books throughout the lobby, bar and restaurant, lend a feeling of intellectually acceptable rest and relaxation to the hotel experience.
The bright red hallways with white wainscoting hearken back to a few traditional pubs that I've had the pleasure of staying at while in England.
The vast leather headboards do exude quite a "thrill of the hunt" vibe, especially with the attendant hardware reminiscent of a horse's bridle. I shall avoid any discussion of the implication of a headboard and a bridle here in this post, but please do feel free to discuss in comments.
A plaid throw was a welcome invocation of weekends away in Scotland. Not quite Balmoral material, but perhaps representative of the red-headed stepchild version.
And, being a Thompson hotel, hip reading material is on hand. I loved that they provided V Magazine. I always find inspiration in that publication.
So happily, after a great experience with the hotel, I do not hesitate to recommend the spot to those out of town visitors seeking a sleeping arrangement that does not include my blow up mattress.
Although as lovely a spot as Gild Hall was, Paul and I are thrilled to be back in our apartment. A fabulous new bed (courtesy of our landlord) delivered and my daffodils blooming, it is good to be home.