Berlin B&Bs and one-time scrawny hostels are getting makeovers. I booked into one using www.booking.com, a useful website with an  array of hotels for any city (no, that’s not a paid-for plug,though if they are reading…).

Pensions are getting trendy and more comfortable. It doesn’t take a genius to realise a minor facelift, with stuff from Ikea and that trendy zweite hand furniture shop on the corner is good for business – I mean, pensions are not for pensioners, so why stick with musty grandma blankets and ornaments circa-guesthouse Blackpool 1955.

Pension Absolut Berlin, owned by a 30-somethng entrepreneur called Kirsten is no exception. It’s but one small ground floor flat in a northern Prenzlauer Berg alt haus (the old ubiquitous Prussian building, I does not mean outdoor bog); it’s done out well, with trendy floral wallpaper on selected walls (very now, dahling), sparing dashes of 60s and Ikea furniture and a comfortable shared lounge area, mitt kaffe-making facilities (make sure you put the mug under the machine spout, it helps). It is but six rooms big, a typical pension.

I have arrived on a holiday Sunday, however, and it is 10 euros more a night than usual. Without being able to scout for more accommodation I book another night. The Germans are an efficient bunch and devoid of emotion. I’m told flatly that it’s 10 euros more even on Monday night as it’s still a holiday and rates are higher. Fine. Later on, I  find I’m the only person staying there. It’s a weird sensation staying in a place built for shared, communal living but with it all to yourself. I can walk to the shower in the nude.

Actually, come to think of it, it’s even more weird to pay extra because it is a bank holiday, and it’s peak time, when in reality there is no one else bloody there. Not a soul. Not a sausage. Nicht wurst. Yes, I hope you ARE reading this Kerstin!