“My name is Claudia, I live here”, says the elderly, stooping lady, “I’ll show you to your room”, and leads us into a room which looks rather like an attempt to recreate an English country house, with deep pile carpet, fussy wooden furniture and a bed which needs a step ladder to climb into.  Michaela says she’s back in Auntie Marjorie’s house. All I can think of is an English comedy show, The League Of Gentlemen – “this is a local hotel for local people”. It’s clean and it’s very welcoming but we’re in 1950s England rather than the thrust of modern America: we have to stifle our laughter as…