“Caroline Phillips is a tenacious and skilful writer with a flair for high quality interviewing and a knack for making things work.”
Only the most intrepid backpackers used to make it to this hidden valley, a three-hour drive by (windy, potholed) road from Punakha, passing wild marijuana and cascading forests. Then they grew up, stopped trying to smoke their roadside pickings and wanted a proper place to bed down.
It started with home shopping and home office. Now it’s home everything. You don’t have to schlepp anywhere nor waste time travelling. There’s no need to sit in waiting rooms, deal with receptionists or make small talk with salon assistants. Nor go food shopping, dirty so much as a saucepan or wash up after your dinner guests.
A skinny fellow with a ‘man bob’ and his attractive female companion are sipping prosecco and gazing at an extinct volcano in a valley that has scarcely changed in a century. Nearby, a woman from Cincinnati surveys a medieval building that is being turned into a tiny spa, while an impecunious musician eats a meal made by a chef who worked at one of Giorgio Locatelli’s restaurants.
Cyprus is gloriously hot at Easter and autumn half-term, but its trump card for those travelling with under fours is that it’s less than five hours on a plane from London, saving you the hell of long-haul. And luckily, the nannies from Scott Dunn (English-speaking, young, smiley) are on hand to absolve you of a moment’s guilt about disentangling yourself for a few hours (or 9.30am-5.30pm, if you prefer)
The beautiful results of this grande Hollywood dame’s enhancement are seen in Suite 100. Its style is Marilyn Monroe – once a frequent hotel guest – meets Paul Williams, the original architect who designed the hotel’s ‘polo lounge’ and iconic pink-and-green colour scheme. The original palm-leaf wallpaper remains, as does the cheeky forties vibe – but the powder, bubble gum and candyfloss pink have been replaced with zingy citrus and furnishings in rich hues of green and blue. So much so that the new suite feels crisp, cool and de nos jours. It’s modern but still classic, with curved ceilings and walls, forests of black lacquer and about a zillion silk cushions.
Coronado Island in Southern California is the island Disney would have made, had he created one. There’s something unreal in its perfection. It’s palm-fringed, between bay and ocean. And its streets are clean enough to eat off – there are $1,000 fines for littering.
I’m throwing up like an elephant, puking saline water in one enormous wave. I’ve just swallowed a litre and a half of tepid, salty water – drinking several glasses very fast under the unwavering watch of my yoga teacher, Sandeep Aggarwal. At his instruction, I’ve tickled the back of my throat with my fingers, before belching more liquid into the sink. As I do this, an elegant woman in a sari walks past the open door of the therapy room and smiles encouragingly.
View transcriptThis teeny two-bed 18th century Costwold stone hunting lodge, set down a pot-holed farm track on the Blenheim Palace Estate, is as cute as a button. The Duke of Marlborough has leased it to ‘DJ’ Nichols, American founder of ‘lifestyle provider’ Unlisted.
It has been attracting attention from the rich and famous lately, but the lush and beautiful Greek island of Meganisi is still “firmly off the tourist radar”, says Caroline Phillips in The Times. Part of the Ionian archipelago, just off the country’s west coast, it feels lost in time, with patchy mobile reception and a population of just 1200, none of whom locks their house or car.
It’s what the Swiss Family Robinson would have built, had they met the Blue Forest design team. A Chewton Glen treehouse. The ultimate reinvention of the country house hotel. The six treehouses – or ‘treehouse suites’ as they’re known – look simple and rustic outside, like floating wooden space ships hiding in the woods. But ones with wraparound balconies and al fresco hot tubs that brush the tree canopy.
It’s a place of Olympian beauty where emerald isles rise languidly out of a patchwork turquoise and wine-dark sea. But my two teenagers and their friends disregard this scenery that’s fit for the gods. Instead they are focusing on our fellow passengers.
I need to come back as a man in my next life. It’s better than being a woman. So says the astrologer monk, Wangchuk, who counsels the king and Queen of Bhutan. He’s sitting in the lotus position on his bed, mumbling, sniffing and snorting as he turns the pages of his astrological book – revealing ever more esoteric tips to help me in this lifetime and after.
I am onstage in front of 65 strangers who think I’m a stand-up comedian. I’ve never done anything like this before. Why have I agreed…
I am lying on a wooden massage bed as two women rub my naked body with hot pouches of cooked rice, milk and medicinal herbs.…
As we stepped off the Dodekanisos Pride ferry onto the Greek island of Symi for our late August beach holiday, our thoughts were on sunbathing…