Not a fan of b&b's myself. Apart from the cost, which wasn't too bad when I was working but which is prohibitive to me now, I'm not very good with social small talk particularly as my hearing isn't so good, and I always feel a bit of an intruder in someone's home in spite of paying for the privelege and no matter how friendly and hospitable the hosts might be.
I have slightly uneasy memories of the crumbling shabby-chic manor house of an eccentric in Cumbria, my Edinburgh room like an ice box, the rather posh family home in Surrey where it was obvious that I was using the oldest teenage son's room, he presumably having been moved elsewhere for the night for my benefit, and the prissy bungalow in Cornwall with about twenty cushions and pillows on the bed, where I felt I didn't dare touch anything.