Europe

Lanzarote: Learning to breathe

Sharron Livingston — Tue, 14 May 2013 16:36:55 +0100

On any other day it would have been difficult not to notice the charm of the black volcanic landscape and the contrasting low-rise white-washed towns of Lanzarote. But as I drove along hilly roads from Playa Blanca in the south through Arecife, the capital, and on to the hillside village of Nazaret in the north, I hardly noticed the chain of multi-hued mountains that snake from end to end. Odd, given that they usually take my breath away.

Instead, my mind was on the power of breath itself. I was about to experience transformational breathing with breath guru Alan Dolan. He says that it would increase vitality and general well-being.

The idea of learning to breathe seemed a tad humourous. Everyone does it, and in any case, breathing for health is nothing new. After all, yoga lovers have long-known the role of deep breathing to achieve inner peace and relaxation. I was assured it would be worthwhile and that I may find it difficult. It’s breathing, I thought, how hard could it be?

Arriving at Dora Bella, a sprawling villa,was a pleasant experience. Electric doors opened to a drive that led into the private courtyard and gorgeous gardens that shimmered in the bright golden morning haze.

Walking towards me was a man, clad in white, with rock star hair and a gliding gait followed by a sprightly pooch called Louis. Gently spoken and looking like a trendy angel, the breath guru, invited me to take tea in his lounge, a space of soothing muted colours where we relaxed into an exchange of smiles and easy chatter. While I stroked Louis, I met the other guests; a young, affluent couple with whom I would dine for the next three nights.

The villa sits high on a hill and from my poolside sunbed I gazed upon a vista of palm trees, mountain peaks and the distant blue sea. It’s a quiet location, so quiet that the birdsong and the ruffling of the palm frongs as they swayed in the breeze were easy to hear. Sipping herbal tea while dipping in and out of a Deepak Chopra book I had borrowed from Alan’s library I knew this would be a great three days.

My work started the next morning. And it was tremendously physical — in effect a pummelling given by a former Ozzie surfing champ called Dennis. He described this as a massage of my internal organs and assured me it would release tensions bought on by stress and emotional discord from the muscles and intestines and allow more oxygen in during my breathing session.

Transformational breath has its roots in the work of psychologist Stanislav Grof. He discovered that breath work, when combined with psychotherapy, can take healing to a new level. Alan explained: “Breath is the lubricant that harmonises the aspects that make up a human being — it offers improved circulation, better brain functions, better energy levels and grounding.”

After a light vegetarian lunch I met up with Alan in the treatment room. He told me: “We generally use 30 per cent of our respiratory system and often only breathe into the upper chest. The aim is to use the whole system.”

He asked me to breathe in through an open mouth, to breathe deeply into the stomach as if filling a balloon and inhale slowly and exhale quickly — in the space of a heartbeat — then start the cycle again without any breaks. My mouth had to remain wide open throughout.

He used acupressure to help release physical and emotional pain and every now and then he’d whisper affirmations. He told me: “You are like a heart on legs. We must bring you into the rest of your body.”

It’s not natural to breathe in this way and it was a stretch to stay focused for 90 minutes. He egged me on: “We are looking for positive change, a rapid, permanent, change that achieves a feel-good factor and does not fade in time.”

The second session was easier. Yet the energy involved was surprisingly subduing and I yearned for nature.
I drove to the wine-growing region, La Geria, five minutes away, to lose myself in the unlikely vision of vines growing on soil made of volcanic ash. Knowing how to work this body of land and nourish the vines made the land productive. I wondered how well I knew my body.

By my third day I had grown fond of the quiet, the luxury of the villa and eating veggie cuisine. Dennis gave me an impromptu shoulder and neck massage by the pool and it hurt. I heard Alan saying: “Breathe into the discomfort”. I did, and when it was over I opened my eyes and that was the tipping point.

All at once, I had become dismantled and I simply fell in love. But with what? Alan? Dennis? The view? Or was it with life itself? I inhaled deeply as if to breathe in the moment hoping, as Alan promised, that it would never fade.

FLY: Easyjet and Ryanair have frequent flghts to Lanzarote
www.easyjet.com, www.ryanair.com

RETREAT Three nights including a transformational breath session per day, full board and transfers, start at £590 per person. Other activities include yoga, massages, volcano climbing, surfing and kite surfing, all priced at £70. www.breathguru.com

Grand Hôtel de Bordeaux & Spa

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 12:22:22 +0100

If you are going to visit Bordeaux, home to some of the world's finest wines, you may as well stay in the city's finest accommodation. The five-star Grand Hôtel de Bordeaux & Spa delivers on all fronts - an ideal central location, stunning 18th Century architecture and enough luxury facilities to make you dizzy.

Featuring 150 rooms, including 22 suites, it's bang opposite the almost mirror-image of the Grand Theatre.

The top three floors are given over to a spa, including a suspended indoor swimming pool offering counter-current swimming under a glass roof, which lets out on to a beautiful rooftop terrace with a bar, Jacuzzi and views across the World Heritage-listed city.

Rooms are sumptuous in a period way, well-equipped with high-tech goodies and terrific views across the Place de la Comedie, if you choose one at the front.

The under-floor heated marble bathrooms is a luxurious bonus.

There is a Michelin-starred restaurant, a more casual brasserie and a buffet breakfast.

Of key interest to lovers of the grape, the hotel has just inaugurated a Wine Concierge service, which caters to dunces and connoisseurs alike (and includes Cognac).

You tell them what you like and how deep your pockets are and they will arrange appropriate chateaux visits for you, including, if you are in the market, the "Big Five".

These are Chateaux Margaux, Haut-Brion, Lafite-Rothschild, Latour and Mouton-Rothschild.

They will facilitate all sorts of wine tastings, wine dinners and even delivery of purchases.

The price of the buffet breakfast is included within the room price, but where separated out, this usually costs 72 euros for two.

Rates: Superior rooms from €250.

Tel: +33 5 57 30 44 44

Art goes to the wall in Berlin

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 12:19:17 +0100

Standing in front of the squalid exterior of the Tacheles building in the heart of Berlin's Mitte district, I pause to ponder the existential question posed on the building's side. "How long is now" the giant mural asks passers-by, while the severe, stylised face spray-painted below suggests the answer is anything but frivolous.

This ambiguous statement presents the perfect paradox. Not just because of the absence of a question mark, or the poignancy of its sentiment, which echoes this city's tumultuous present and past, but because it intentionally contradicts its location's character.

"Tacheles", in Yiddish, literally means to speak bluntly and directly, a characteristic for which the German people are well-known, but which this piece of vague German vandalism manages to evade. In doing so, however, it holds a mirror to society and thus, transcends vandalism to become art.

The dilapidated Tacheles warehouse, originally a Jewish-owned department store, then a Nazi prison, became an alternative artist's enclave after squatters occupied it the year after Berlin's reunification.

It now sits crumbling, vacated and condemned to destruction and redevelopment. Nevertheless, the spray-can artists and taggers still come to add their mark. The building's façade is drenched with layers of colour and decades of paint: a giant mural of art.

Like an enormous concrete Etch-a-Sketch where the slate hasn't quite been wiped clean before more squiggles were added, generations of street artists have sprayed picture over picture and tag over tag across the walls.

In the process, they have turned this disused relic of society into a fascinating open-air art gallery. Berlin could very well be the city of graffiti artist Banksy's imaginings. The city is so slathered with zesty layers of paint that at times it seems it is nothing more than a three-dimensional concrete canvas.

Although by no means legal, graffiti in Berlin is poorly policed. This is because Berlin's underground art scene is no longer the exclusive realm of the city's wayward youth and subversive scribblers.

Graffiti tours of Berlin are now a major attraction. Local councils, therefore, are less inclined to remove work and prosecute offenders. The authorities' tolerance of graffiti and the abundance of empty buildings abandoned following German reunification have combined to make Berlin the current Mecca for street artists. Spray-can wielding pilgrims flock here from all around the world.

You really have to admire the lengths and heights, to which these nocturnal stealth artists will go to draw a picture.

Perhaps it is not surprising that this liberal form of expression, available to anyone with a spray can, is so popular where for years freedom of expression was in short supply.

With the fall of the Berlin Wall, stifled German emotions literally exploded on to city walls.

A quick walk around the grungy Kreuzberg district will soon reveal that the possession of a spray-can and some heavy emotional baggage do not an artist make. Berlin's street art is not all art.

Incredibly though, the vast majority of fresco paintings are great. Some are truly brilliant.

The colour, vibrancy, wit, and optimism of the pieces illuminate this lively city in a way that sways even the most hardened graffiti hater.

And the fact that Berlin's insatiable appetite for this imaginative and deliberately non-conformist art arose in the wake of Nazism and Communism, is simply the icing on that painted cake.

Hotel du Vin, Henley-On-Thames

Richard Burton — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 12:06:53 +0100

The dress code was simple: wear what you like. No ties, jacket not essential. You choose. And we all did.

Fortunately, a blend of position, reputation and tariff meant that those who did brave one of the coldest Friday nights of the year didn't let the side down.

And so it was a mix: we had the dinner suit lot on their way to a do, the smart casuals showing that you can get away with jeans if you have the figure for it, and the designer diners giving their blonde dates a Paul Smith cuff or two to hold on to.

I guess it's the sort of crowd you'd want if you're running a small hotel in a posh Thameside town, with its own French-style bistro boasting separate red and white wine stores.

And this was a pretty typical crowd, according to one dressed-to-be-seen couple in the corner of the delightfully dark and comfy pre-dinner-drinks area they call the snug. Also, so I was assured, a regular haunt for many of the non-residents that outnumbered we guests for dinner that night.

Not that I cared. I had a river-view suite to return to: a split-level one with its own terrace that overlooks a maze of red-tiled roofs to the Regatta Lawns.

It even had its own open-air tub for those balmy summer evenings when the only way to unwind is a soak under the stars. Well, given the opportunity…

The three-seater Chesterfield in what was essentially a bathroom was a nice touch, as was the TV you can watch from the bath, the espresso machine and the selection of current-issue magazines in both rooms.

Back to the bistro; very du Vin with its dark leather, polished wooden floors and busy, art-laden walls. You're led into it via a smart bar, again all zinc-topped and French. It's not a place I'd naturally see as a draw for young families but it catered effortlessly for the few there on the night; the pre-teen girls toasting grandad's birthday, the nearly newborn in its buggy, and the terror tot of a two-year-old who chirruped his way between drinkers and diners as staff side-stepped him and occasionally guided him on his way lest he strayed too far.

When the table was ready and the tot wasn't, the waiter simply made one up next to a sofa in the snug. Job done.

The hotel's position is as central as you get without taking to the river, in a side street yards from the Thames and a few oars' lengths away from the shopping streets. The town itself is bookshop-twee and art gallery-indulgent, a place to stroll and unwind without the car.

Which is just as well, as they whisk it away from you when you pull up in the courtyard drop-off area and pop it underground till you need it again.

Rates From £145 per night

Tel: 0845 365 4438

Monaco: How to take a view like this in your stride

Sharron Livingston — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 12:00:18 +0100

With so many millionaires crammed into its 0.78 square miles, its awesome architecture, improbable number of spotlessly-lush parks and one of the smallest royals-to-commoners ratios in the world, you'd be forgiven for thinking Monaco is something dreamt up as a vehicle for a Grace Kelly film.

In fact, that was probably what was on François Grimaldi's mind when he seized the place in 1297. Either way, it's every bit the film set it always has been and one in which, for a day or two at least, we can grab a walk-on part.

And walking is the way to see this most elegant strip of the Côte d'Azur, with its mix of bustling streets, quiet lanes and floral parks separating its two great landmarks: the Prince's Palace and the casino at Monte Carlo.

Actually, make that strolling. That's what the locals do when they're not riding around in open-top Bentleys. It's not good to work up a sweat in chinos and Ralph Lauren.

This is not a place to be under-dressed, unless you want to seriously stand out. Being an extra here means making an extra effort if you want any chance of blending in.

The only concession worth making is shoes; ones that'll help you get up and down hills. Of which there are a lot.

A leisurely afternoon can take you from the palace at what is the gateway to the principality, to the casino in the ritzier and most famous of its seven districts, just across the spectacular drop to the harbour. And it's a similarly manageable stroll to get down to those yachts you can see below.

So, a word of comfort for those wondering whether one of those money belts will spoil the line of a nicely cut jacket: while the place may be ridiculously pompous (its 35,000 population even have a local dialect and national holiday), it is relatively safe. Plain-clothes police patrol the tourist spots and they're big on CCTV. Cameras are everywhere. It is a film set, remember.

So, a starting point. It's a steep slog from the centre of town up to the palace, but you've stunning views with every step before you reach the square on which is played another sign of pomp: the midday changing of the guard.

And if you're one of those that don't do palaces, take a tip and do this one. You get to see the Throne Room, the Palatine Chapel and, most importantly, the private apartments; all aided by audio guides in English which help you get a taste of the Grimaldi lifestyle as you soak up the Renaissance architecture of the courtyard.

Alongside are the spectacular St Martin Gardens and the cathedral which houses the tombs of Prince Rainier and Princess Grace. But it's the old-town feel of Monaco-Ville, with its narrow streets and leafy squares, that gives you the sense that you are somewhere special. It's worth stopping for lunch in one of the open-air cafes - and visiting the chocolate shop. It helps if you speak just a little French.

This is the area known as the Rock, the prominent headland from where the place is both ruled and governed. It's also the place to get lost and be a tourist. If you want to see and be seen, then it's time for that stroll downhill.

It's worth taking a detour along the winding and undulating alleyways that sit behind the main roads of La Condamine if you want a sense of how ordinary Monegasques live. You'll pass front doors and occasionally, be warned, reach a dead-end. But no one will mind you finding a short cut.

Everyone goes to the Café de Paris, which sits bang outside the casino and features a terrace from where you can watch the supercars lining up outside the casino or try to spot someone of note at a nearby table. Just don't expect decent service from waiters who make it clear they've enjoyed better clientele before harrying you out of your seat as soon as they spot an empty cup or a clean plate. The cafe does have its own free gambling area, ideal for low-rollers who prefer slot machines to roulette tables. But that cheapens the experience.

From any of the vantage points, Monaco appears a thriving hub of high rises, but there's a lot of greenery set in among all that concrete. And it's pleasingly green, thanks to all the trees and shrubbery that line the pavements.

But for the best of it, head for the Jardin Exotique.Be aware, you will need those walking shoes here. It's steep, built into the side of the rock, and distinctly South American with its array of cacti, which contrast well with the white statues, the red terracotta roof lines below and the sea beyond. There's even a cave full of stalactites to enjoy, with an equally ridiculous number of steps.

But away from the attractions, Monaco is a place where you can stroll all day and enjoy a surprising amount of peace and quiet away from the bustle. You'll even come across lifts here and there to help you onto different street levels.

And it's worth doing it at night, grabbing a vantage point from the harbour and looking up as the hillside seems to come alive, or taking a taxi into the mountains and pausing at a viewing lay-by. But if that sounds like too much hard work, there's an excellent open-topped hop-on, hop-off bus service that trundles around in a continual loop - a single ticket will last you two days.

Knock Castle Crieff, Scotland

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 14:56:08 +0000

It took a six-hour train ride from London to Perth and a half-hour drive to Crieff for my first sight of Knock Castle, but it was worth it. With its enchanting turrets and fairytale character, the castle has a magic that glows through the drizzle.

And when you meet the head chef and general manager, Jason Henderson — who along with his father features in the current Channel 4 hotel review series Four In A Bed — you can see where the magic comes from. In five years his family’s energy has transformed the castle from a health spa run by the Seventh Day Adventist Church into a luxury hotel and spa.

And the first change Jason made? An alcohol licence.

The wine, like the rest of the menu, is excellent and great value. Dinner is hearty, with choices from staple beer-battered fish and chips to more innovative creations such as pear and stilton soufflé. And you can’t beat Arbroath smokies for breakfast.

The staff strike just the right balance of formality and warmth, and the hotel feels at once homely and majestic. The decor – largely tartan – is traditional and tasteful, with cosy lounges and bars, a pool, gym, cinema, and reasonably-priced spa treatments delivered by a charming therapist.

And if you fancy seeing a bit more of Scotland, you can do it in style, with a ride in the Henderson helicopter to Edinburgh for £400.

Renovations are ongoing, which may account for the occasional slip. My bathroom was exquisite, with black marble steps leading to a sunken bath set into the turret – it doesn’t get more fairytale than that. But while the monogrammed sheets felt luxurious, the chintzy nylon bedspread had holes in it. As Jason says, there’s always room for improvement. But nonetheless, I found myself falling under the spell of Knock Castle, with its beautiful views, eccentric quirks, and the Hendersons’ peculiar brand of Scottish chutzpah.

RATES: Doubles from £72.50 based on two sharing with breakfast
Tel: 01764 650088
www.knockcastle.com

Val d'Isere: Skiing and partying at their peak

Sharron Livingston — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 13:54:42 +0000

On the way up, all I could see were the clouds.They were blurring the view of the peak, but as we edged closer the scene began to look a little spooky as the silhouette of the mountain-top restaurant, Tête de Solaise, began to emerge through the misty white.

Lost in thoughts of apres-ski tipples, I became aware of the voice of Max, our ski instructor. “Look over there,” he said, jabbing his ski pole into the cold air.

From this vantage point — dangling some some 2,000 feet-high on a ski lift — I could see the full expanse of the Solaise run and the steep Face de Bellevarde slope that had been a venue for the 1992 Winter Olympics.

Today this black run was the scene of the men’s World Cup slalom — an annual event that marks the opening of the ski season at Val d’Isère. It was the 21-year-old Frenchman Alexis Pinturault who won the race in just one minute 35.5 seconds — most mortals take around 10 minutes to get down the slope.

The vibe over the competition weekend was exhilerating. DJ’s were playing high-octane music, cheering crowds were forming, kids were waving French flags in support of their own skiing countrymen and pop-up bars were selling beer and coffee.

Just one thing blighted the event, but not for long. The overnight snowfall was so heavy that the morning race had to be postponed to the late afternoon. But for holiday-makers the conditions held the promise of a great ski experience in soft, pleasingly thick, powdery snow.

As a nervous skier, I was reassured to know that should I fall, the impact would be cushioned. I had spent my time on the nursery slope (where no ski pass is required and drag lifts are free) with Max, whose coaching mantra of “control your thoughts, relax your body”, worked well.

Soon I was traversing, ploughing and doing parallel turns down the wide, open spaces of the Solaise run.
It was even more gratifying to know that the runs here are cheekily under-classed which, when translated, means that some blues and greens are so steep that in other resorts they would be deemed as reds.

I didn’t venture away from the central runs but elsewhere proficient skiers were getting their kicks on a huge range of beautiful off-piste options. There is also the vast Espace Killy (the ski area in the Tarentaise Valley that includes Val d’Isère and Tignes) where you can explore some of the bumpier Solaise runs and the wide pistes of the glacier at nearby Fornet. At the last count there were 61 blues, 46 reds and 25 blacks. And, for a change, there are 44km of cross-country skiing.

But, whatever their classification, the grooming of these runs is top quality. And the resort has one of the best snow records around, making it a good ski-getaway the entire season — which itself is longer than most resorts, lasting up to six months.

But for now, just beyond the clouds, Max and I jumped off the chair at the mountain’s peak to meet the others in my group, who had spent the day on the reds and blacks.

Val d’Isère (which means valley of the Isère river) is dotted with chalet-style accommodation, most of which has popped up in the last decade or so. Mine, Le Chardon Mountain Lodge, was a few minutes away in a secluded area of La Legettaz, just walking distance from the village.

The village centre, ostensibly one long parade of shops, cafes, ski hire shops and a tourist office with a radio station, has the newly created Aqua Sportif which houses a swimming pool a climbing wall and is the venue for various other indoor sports.

It’s a pretty town, but something was missing — the usual designer shops — just one, Prada, stood out among the bustle of little-known boutiques. Perhaps this is why Val d’Isère has remained less expensive than comparable resorts.

I hopped on the free bus service to La Daille (where incidentally, violinist Vannessa Mae’s mother has a chalet). From there, a bubble lift leads to what is probably the most hedonistic party venue in the area — Le Folie Douce. What goes on here is a high-altitude version of a beach party that takes place on a sprawling terrace. Singers, musicians, dancers and fire eaters strutt their stuff at nearly 10,000 feet up a mountain, half-way up the Diabold blue run.

Getting into the vibe, I remembered that the characters Edina and Patsy, from the sitcom Absolutely Fabulous, holidayed in Val d’Isère. And I have no doubt that they would have loved the atmosphere, the music, the cabaret culture, beer drinking and champagne-spraying frolics that go on throughout the afternoon (it all stops at 5.30).

But I was there for something a little less raucous: a cheese- and wine-tasting at the fine dining restaurant, La Fruitiere, next door.

I got to spend a civilised afternoon tasting a selection of French red wines from what must be the highest wine cellar in Europe, before skiing may way back down, slowly.

Back at Le Chardon, I put away the skis and boots and went straight to the spa for a massage that concentrated on my aching calves.The heady mix of the wine, the warming of my chilled face and hands and the gentle pressure of the masseuse’s hands on my muscles sent me back up into the clouds — number 9, to be precise.

I began to plan my next day’s manouevres, both on and off the piste, wondering if I could get down the blues and blacks without actually turning black and blue.

Getting there:
FLY: Swiss fly direct to Geneva from, Heathrow for around £120 return.www.swiss.com
STAY: Chardon Mountain Lodges.Five-star chalet accommodation close to slopes, can cater for groups from eight to 20 people. Room rates from £1,250 per person based on two sharing for seven nights. Includes breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner. Concierge service.Transfers from Geneva airport can be arranged. www.lechardonvaldisere.com

Le Chardon Mountain Lodge, Val D’isere, France

Sharron Livingston — Mon, 21 Jan 2013 13:46:18 +0000

After a day skiing on Val d’Isère’s slopes. I admit to imbibing more than a soupçon of apres-ski sustenance, yet I was still cold. As activities levels and temperatures dropped well below freezing, by the time I got back to Le Chardon chalet (one of five that comprise the Chardon Mountain Lodges) I just wanted to thaw quickly.

Skis and ski shoes were deposited in the ski room and complimentary slippers donned, and then it was up to the sitting room to join other guests (when fully occupied this can take up to 20), for tea and cake by a crackling fire.

The chalet is located in the secluded hamlet of La Legettaz on the Solaise Mountain. By 6pm I was warmed and sated but as a newbie skier, I hadn’t quite anticipated how much my legs would ache. So during my three-day stay I took full advantage of the masseuse, the hot tub and the sauna.

My bedroom, called the Arday, featured yards of walnut wood, and had a great view over the Alps. The ensuite comes with a bath, a shower and two sinks and a wonderfully heated-tiled floor that feel superb on bare feet. A large spongy bed with huge pillows was delightful to slip into every night, but not too early, and certainly not before dinner was served.

Residents are encouraged, but not compelled, to dine together in one of two dining rooms, both of which have floor-to-ceiling windows to take advantage of the spectacular alpine views.

It was a social event that centred on fine food and wine and kosher meals are available on request.
Though Le Chardon is probably the largest chalet in Val d’Isère, it is spread over four floors with private terraces and it has the ambience of a large family home, especially true when coffee is served to you in bed.

RATES: £1250 per person for 7 nights
TEL: 0 131 209 7969

SHARRON LIVINGSTON

Bovey Castle in Devon - a mini legoland

Lianne Kolirin — Mon, 17 Dec 2012 17:07:03 +0000

THE road to Bovey Castle is narrow and winding, the approach marked by unimposing iron gates. It is far from an ostentatious entrance and one you could easily miss. This place is a closely guarded secret and they’d clearly like to keep it that way.

It’s a long drive from London to the wilds of Dartmoor in Devon, but as we turned into the 275-acre estate, it all seemed worth it. Then, negotiating our weather-beaten car around the 18-hole golf course, we spotted a helicopter landing with some guests on board.

My heart sank. I turned to look at my three boys in their hoodies and trainers, their faces smeared with chocolate from the endless journey.

“Look,” said my husband, pointing out our hotel in the distance. “It looks like Downton Abbey.” “Or Hogwarts,” our eldest son pitched in.

We stopped in front of the lavish manor house where we were met by our friendly host, Ashleigh. She took our keys and saw to it that our bags were unloaded and our car parked.

Ashleigh then escorted us on a tour of Bovey Castle. We were shown the beautiful spa, the fine dining restaurant and the lounges where guests read the papers and sipped tea. My husband and I exchanged a look of panic. What were we and our boisterous brood doing here? But when I shared my concerns with Ashleigh, she laughed and brushed them off.

“This is a family hotel and children are welcome everywhere,” she said.

Appearances can be deceptive and none more so than at Bovey Castle. This is a hotel that not only tolerates children, but actively caters for them. So much so, that the proprietors have joined forces with the world famous toymaker to launch a world first: Lego room service.

The hotel has a swimming pool, a playroom, tennis courts, a table tennis room, pitch and putt, 275 acres of Dartmoor wilderness and a kids’ club. But that was all by the by, as far as our boys were concerned.

My husband and I explored our incredible family-sized suite in awe — the huge beds, the extravagant bathrooms, the stunning views, while the boys chirped: “Can we order now?” brandishing the Lego menu.

There are twelve sets to choose from and the selection caters for toddlers to teens, boys and girls.
After paying a £50 refundable deposit, our Lego fanatics opted for the Duplo safari, a Star Wars set and the monster fighter ghost train.

Ten minutes later there was a knock at the door and there stood the Lego concierge in green tweeds and laden with boxes.

The boys got building straight away. When they first heard about the service they were upset to discover they couldn’t take their creations home. I wasn’t too sure of the concept either, but I can now safely say that it is a stroke of marketing genius.

If you are the parent of a Lego-mad child, you know this hobby does not come cheap.Big sets cost upwards of £100 and once they are built, that’s that. But here, for no extra charge, children build the set, play with it, take countless photos, then swap it for something else.

The only drawback to this wonderful service is that it feeds the habit of little Lego addicts.
Once the boys completed their boxes, they nagged for replenishments. Plus, there was a chorus of disapproval when we asked them to break for food, sleep or anything else.

If you think their architectural endeavours bestowed us with a lie-in, then you’d be wrong.
We were awoken at the crack of dawn each day by one of our little darlings demanding that — you guessed it — we order more Lego.

This we did, but only on the proviso that they agreed to leave the room every so often. We coaxed them down to the pool twice, which they loved once they got there. It is a generous size and beautifully decked out, with a glass-fronted seating area opening onto a large terrace.

Once out, we also convinced them to join us on a long walk through the grounds, spectacular in autumn colours.
There’s a kids’ club called Bovey Rangers which offers brilliant activities including survival skills, camouflage face-painting and moorland adventures, but at £26 per two hour session per child, it can prove costly. Still, think of it as an investment.

Two-hours buys you time to indulge in some pampering or try your hand at one of many outdoor pursuits Bovey offers, such as fly fishing or quad biking.

Having only just persuaded our kids to breathe in the air, we kept it low key. We joined an early(ish) morning walk to the hen house, where the children gathered eggs to give to the chef to cook for breakfast.
Sadly, mealtimes are the only thing that let Bovey Castle down.

On both mornings we waited for more than 20 minutes before being seated in the half empty restaurant.
Staff seemed more concerned with making sure everything looked pristine, than serving us our food.
We repeatedly asked for things and were made to wait overly long for our orders in both the Edwardian Grill and the more relaxed Castle Brasserie.

Yet when the food did finally arrive it was good — especially Bovey’s signature afternoon tea.
Nevertheless, even a cake stand piled high with scones and cakes was not enough to keep us seated for long.
“Can we get more Lego now!” they all chimed in together.

PACKAGE: The KIDS STAY FREE offer is available from 9-17 February 2013, based on one child sharing a Castle room with two adults staying on a B&B basis. Prices start from £279.00 per room per night.
www.boveycastle.com,
01647 445000

Hotel Miramar

Jessica Elgot — Thu, 13 Dec 2012 17:08:00 +0000

Barcelona is a hectic city — swelteringly hot in summer, heaving with crowds, stall owners yelling, brightly coloured building, thumping flamenco.

But at the Hotel Miramar, you could be on another planet. On a hill above the city, but easily accessible by the Montjuic cable car which perches just in front of the hotel, the breathtakingly serene scenes of the city and the sea makes you forget the stress that lies below. Close by, in surrounding Montjuic, visitors can explore the Miro museum and botanical gardens, if you can tear your eyes away from the view.

The building is glossy art deco style, built in 1929 by King Alfonso XIII, with a cascading waterfall coming down as you enter the monochrome lobby.

The hotel’s spa facilities are one of its major plus points. Spacious sun-loungers are scattered around a deep turquoise H-shaped pool, where you can sip sangria and admire the panorama down the slope. But inside, guests are spoilt with a large fitness centre, jacuzzis, saunas, a huge indoor pool and a Turkish bath.

The 75 rooms are modern and open plan, with an enormous freestanding bath behind dark grey iron chain-mail curtains. The interior is earthy, with deep-pile chocolate rugs, buff leather sofas and dark woods. All have private balconies or terraces, with wicker chairs to lounge or read the pile of design magazines or plug your i-Pod into the room’s sound system.

A typical Spanish breakfast is served in a rectangular dining room or on the terrace, manchego cheese, tortilla, tomatoes and toast.

Those looking to spend the evening watching twilight set in across the city can book a place at the hotel’s Forestier restaurant, which serves up reliably good Spanish cuisine, compared to the many hit-and-miss tourist tapas and paella joints in the city below.

Rates: from €150 per night
Tel: 00 34 93 281 16 00
JESSICA ELGOT