This week I spent 24 hours in Stratford on Avon. Sadly it wasn’t there to enjoy the sheer loveliness of the place or to soak up some culture at the RSC. I was there for a conference and was put up for the night in the very pleasant Stratford Hotel.

After a good night’s sleep I headed down to breakfast the next morning and as I walked into the restaurant I realised that I was about to be struck down by a strange disorder that occurs whenever I stay in a hotel. You see I suffer from a condition that I like to call ‘Hotel Appetite Metamorphosis’.

It’s an extraordinary condition, as yet unrecognised by the British Medical Association, but I know it’s real. Now you’re probably wondering how HAM (I love an appropriate acronym) manifests itself? Well, every day when I’m at home, I have a bowl of cereal for breakfast, usually something of the bran variety. This may occasionally be swapped at the weekend with scrambled eggs and toast (generally when I’ve had a bit too much pop the night before). But that’s it, I am indeed a creature of habit and that’s what I like for my breakfast, every single day.

However, when I walk into a hotel restaurant that’s set up for breakfast, it always happens. As I peruse the breakfast buffet, my appetite completely changes and things I would never normally consider being desirable foodstuff for the first meal of the day (or sometimes any meal), suddenly become appealing. I get drawn in by the allure of black pudding. Pieces of salami tease me.

Even starting the day with sweaty cheese and pickled gherkins becomes a tasty option. It is a debilitating syndrome and I have yet to find a cure.

So why am I always afflicted by HAM? Is it because of the change of environment? Is it because someone else has prepared the food? Is it just because I want my money’s worth? Or is it just pure greed?

Well it might be a little of all of those. However, it’s the fact that I crave things I wouldn’t normally eat that confuses me. Of course, HAM can strike when abroad too. I’ve always believed in the old adage ‘When in Rome....’ so am happy to try local delicacies when I’m in
another country. I remember happily breakfasting on rollmops in Germany once, an idea that completely turns my stomach when back in Blighty.

I have since heard that our German friends consider rollmops to be a very good hangover cure though so I will bare that in mind as a future
potential remedy (an additional note to self).

Similarly I’ve tried rice and miso soup for breakfast in Japan and enjoyed breakfast curry in Sri Lanka, but I did have to draw the line when I spent time working in Lebanon some years ago. A regular dish on their breakfast menu was chunks of raw liver, sprinkled with raw onion, mint and lumps of raw fat. Need I say more?

So what did I end up eating in Stratford? Well I managed to control myself to start off with and had a nice bowl of cereal. But the buffet was like a large magnet and I was a helpless paper clip, and after an internal mental battle, I had to give in and run back for more. And as the HAM took over,
my plate was filled with a weird assortment: the aforementioned black pudding, a lump of goats cheese, a boiled egg, some olives and two cream crackers. A bizarre, and yet strangely satisfying combination.

Maybe I need to stop worrying about HAM and welcome it into my life. I might even go mad and buy some of the food the condition makes me desire. You never know, I could ring the changes and actually add some variety to my morning meals. Stranger things have happened.

NOTE TO SELF: Maybe variety is the spice of breakfast.