Room 417

(Ph. Berta Bernad ) Come in, come in! You'll have to excuse my state of undress (f lashing lace seems like a recurring theme of late) - though I did warn you... I can't enter a plush hotel room without heading straight for the bathtub. And who could blame me? Aye, not ye merry e-friends, I'm sure! Not when said tub is bigger than a King-size. Which makes sense as the gigantic bed next-door needed a worthy roomate. So what did I get up to in my larger-than-life suite at The London Edition? Bit of lounging, bit of chilling; a lot of late night room service calling (I'm never one to pass a double-decker cheesburger at 11pm); some wifi-dabbling (hasthag shit...