“Caroline Phillips is a tenacious and skilful writer with a flair for high quality interviewing and a knack for making things work.”
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.
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.
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.
People say one of two things when I tell them I’m going to Bhutan. Either: “Where the hell’s that?” Or: “oooh, you’re so lucky, I’ve aways wanted to go there.” To the first, the answer is: it’s a kingdom in the Himalayas between India and the Tibetan plateau. To the second: yes, very lucky – it is one of the most magical and beautful places on Earth where truly you travel back in time.
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.’
As we stepped off the ferry onto the Aegean island of Symi in late August, our thoughts were on sunbathing and sailing. But the first…
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…
The Royal Triangle is like a sort of reverse Bermuda Triangle – so instead of aircraft and ships disappearing under suspicious circumstances, tasteful Highgrove daisy…