The do not disturb sign.

We're not spontaneous people. We have a shared calendar. We colour-code it.

So booking a hotel twenty minutes from our own house, for one night, with no plans at all, felt faintly absurd.

That was the point.

No restaurant booked. No museum. No "while we're here we may as well". The only rule was that once we were in the room, the sign went on the door and stayed there until checkout.

The first hour was strange. We kept looking at each other like, now what?

Then we ordered room service in the bathrobes, opened the little bottle of something from the minibar we'd never normally pay for, and the evening found its own rhythm.

It wasn't the hotel that made it. It was the permission. A whole night where nothing else was allowed to get in.

We drove home the next morning and it felt like we'd been away a week.

The sign is now on our bedroom door at home. Occasionally, it gets used.