“Caroline Phillips is a tenacious and skilful writer with a flair for high quality interviewing and a knack for making things work.”
The fashion for top-notch food continues apace, so Caroline Phillips learns her goosegrass from her ganache with the help of some culinary superstars on the UK’s best cookery courses
Mornings were worst. I would wake with lead in my veins, a jackboot pressing on my chest and my body rigid, as if set in formaldehyde. I’d be beset by a terrible inner loneliness and desolation, paralysed with foreboding. I became destructive, self-sabotaging and impulsive, forgetting that I’m a successful, loved woman with a good life and an exciting future.
This is depression. A crippling depression that has been with me all my life. So who would have thought that the best help would come in the form of a spa therapist?
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.
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)
This 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.
These are the islands on the edge of the world. You may see porpoises, basking sharks or dolphins. Or perchance a peregrine falcon or sea eagle. You’ll pass rivers of moss and mushroom colours of plaid, and bens and glens cloaked in bracken and tradition. ‘It’s the last great wilderness,’ declares our ship’s chief purser, Charles Carroll. It’s as if we are lost in time. Welcome to the Hebridean Islands.
Rossano Ferretti is that rare breed: a hairdresser-cum-architect with a good splash of the designer in him. In fact, he has designed twenty salons across the globe – from New York to New Delhi – and is a world-renowned crimper. He’s known for a way of cutting hair that’s not simply described as a ‘haircut’ but instead is dubbed ‘The Method’ – a unique and patented technique of cutting tresses that apparently has something to do with snipping the hair based on its ‘natural fall in motion.’
Super-jumbo aviation arrived this summer in the UK with the delivery to Heathrow of British Airways’ first A380. The arrival of an all-new, swings and bells airliner is a bigger event than things from Outer Space hitting earth, (unless you’re talking the 650kg Chelyabinsk meteor that hit Russia in February). Small meteorites hit earth daily; whereas it was as long ago as 1970 when the last aerial megastar – the then Queen of the Skies, the Boeing 747 – first landed.
Christmas? Pah! It’s hard to forget the childhood memories of my mother getting up in the night to baste the eight-hour-shrivelled turkey. And those moments of sipping festively hot diesel – otherwise known as cherry brandy. Things are little different these days. Have you ever tried following Delia’s culinary countdown, particularly on the day itself? I’d rather eat my own spleen. Even a boil-in-the-bag kipper tastes better than the fifteenth turkey serving of the month. And find me someone who says he likes Brussels sprouts, and I’ll show you a liar.
Sometimes you find a place so good you don’t want to tell people about it. The Samling is one such. But its restaurant has just won a Michelin star, so it’s too late to keep schtumm…. The hotel can accommodate 24 lucky guests – in rooms and six cottages – in a gabled 1780s house in Windermere, the Lake District. All set on a steep hill and in 67 acres of gardens with giant genera, lavender and hemp. You may inadvertently walk past ‘reception’ – simply a bureau desk in the hall – but soon enough you’ll encounter the young, smiley, ever-solicitous staff. They’re doing great things. Since changing hands in 2011, The Samling has been snapping up awards. (‘Best boutique dining hotel in the world’ type monikers.)
The iconic E -Type Jag was the most beautiful car ever made. Or so said Enzo Ferrari. Jaguar hasn’t made a sports car since. So it’s a tough act for the F -Type to follow. Will it succeed? We’re given the entry-level V6 model. You can hear us coming – which is great. We set off with a ROAR from its centre-mounted twin exhaust pipes. It causes stirs of excitement and ripples of attention – especially from men. After all, it’s the most talked-about British sports car of the moment.
Facialogy? What’s that? It’s a combo of a blissful Vaishaly Signature Facial with a relaxing, health-promoting reflexology.
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.…
Every week ‘The Week’ selects the best features from the world’s press