B&Bs and Hotels in Glasgow

Hostels and Hotels in Glasgow

Do you have a hotel in one of thses towns then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.

Alexandria, Arrochar, Bearsden, Bishopbriggs, Blantyre, Carmunnock, Chryston, Clydebank, Dumbarton, Eaglesham, East Kilbride, Glasgow, Hawkhead, Helensburgh, Kirkintilloch, Neilston, Paisley

For UK travelers going abroad, we recommend Tenerife, with feel of the UK yet all the sun of Tenerife. Read an extract below from More Ketchup than Salsa, the story of a English couple who left the UK to set up life in Tenerife. Info on how to buy the book can be found below.

List your Hostel in Glasgow


Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.

Short Extract

It might have made an inkling of difference if the capital was a pretty city. But in 1991 it wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination. The first monument that greeted travellers from the South was a shoreline oil refinery whose odour was twice as unpleasant as the sight of its steel intestines. Once in the centre, a hotchpotch of architectural styles sullied the pedestrian Plaza de España, a place where gypsies would charge at you waving linen tablecloths and frilly pillowcases. And that was your reward for enduring a white knuckle ride along the TF-1, a testing ground for kamikaze taxi drivers and 16-year-old rally wannabes. This time, we entered the police station with a large sigh, a foreboding sense of doom, and a bulging folder containing every piece of paper we’d collected. Inside, all seemed calm. The only noises were the low hum of fluorescent lighting and a periodic ‘clack’ as a large bespectacled man in the background cautiously poked at his computer keyboard. Every tap was followed by an uncertain glance up, checking that every letter typed was in fact making its way from fingertip to screen. Satisfied that it was, he would then gaze around looking for someone with whom to share his accomplishment. Take a number’, the sign said. I looked up at the electronic counter – ’13’, it read. Our ticket said 112. We sat down and flicked disinterestedly through a couple of faded Hola! magazines that had been thoughtfully provided in 1987.

Alexandria, Arrochar, Bearsden, Bishopbriggs, Blantyre, Carmunnock, Chryston, Clydebank, Dumbarton, Eaglesham, East Kilbride, Glasgow, Hawkhead, Helensburgh, Kirkintilloch, Neilston, Paisley

No… it’s just cooler in here with the fans on. I can’t sleep in the apartment. I’ll see you later.’ She grabbed her shoes and strode out of the bar in her bare feet, still clutching the peach tablecloth she had used for a blanket. She’s been sleeping there for the past week,’ said David, drawing deeply on a cigarette. His face had lost any trace of colour and his eyes bore witness to his own troubled nights. Arguments had become commonplace, subjects ranging from Faith’s role in the Smugglers to whether they should buy filter or non-filter cigarettes. Having agreed to move to Tenerife, albeit reluctantly at first, Faith was now saying she was bullied into coming and once here was being bullied by the rest of us. We had had this discussion with David before and several times had agreed to tread lightly when voicing our opinions, or rather disagreeing with Faith’s. The truth of the matter was that my sister-in-law no longer wanted to be here but David was financially tied to the business. The decision had to be made whether she was prepared to leave David as well. David and Faith grew increasingly exhausted over the next 48 hours. Their eyes bore the red marks of too little sleep, too many tears. Faith had decided to leave despite David’s pleas for her not to go. She argued that she didn’t want to move to Tenerife in the first place, nor get married in circumstances that she felt had been forced on her. Now she found herself in a business partnership where she not only disliked the nature of the business, but also where she wasn’t treated as an equal partner. She was leaving Tenerife and David for good. The marriage was over.

There was certainly an element of envy in the tone of the questioning. There aren’t many people who have been on holiday and not at least momentarily flirted with the idea of making their stay longer than intended. To come in contact with someone that had more or less done that seemed to elicit a certain amount of awe. Some had to justify why they hadn’t taken that step, ‘I thought about moving out here, but my girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband didn’t fancy it.’ You could tell some were always going to be ‘just about to’ move over. And then there were those who, after seeing it was possible, became fully committed to changing their lives. Wayne Greaves was one. Wayne was on holiday with his girlfriend, Becky, a pretty but painfully thin slip of a girl who wouldn’t have suffered adversely from a couple of weeks of force-feeding. Wayne was an ex-gas fitter who we coerced into fixing our oven when the four rings suddenly developed delusions of grandeur, throwing circles of flames high into the air like four Rolls Royce jet engines. We had attempted to persuade a gas engineer to pay us a visit after Frank had removed the safety catch from the propane bottles but our hopes were not high in securing a return visit in time to stop the kitchen ceiling being cooked. Wayne and Becky were sat at the bar early one evening, when David came out from the kitchen with distinguishably less eyebrow hair than he had gone in with. I think we’ve got a problem with the gas,’ he said, and steadied himself with a shot of brandy.