Sometimes we discuss the possibility of spending a night in the W hotel. It's no more than 2 miles from our house but the allure of their perfectly comfortable beds beckons to us from memories of happy nights we slept at the Ws in Seattle and San Diego. We fondly recall how Zoë at the W in New Orleans saved us many times from the dreadful food at the conference centre opposite, a fact which recently caused us to wonder why we had resolutely decided to never give the restaurant at San Francisco's W a chance. The answer to the question was clear to us. Only tourists eat at W hotels, don't they? Why on earth should we play and pay at being tourists in our own town?