800 years ago, this place was a monastery. Monks climbed the stairs of this abbey, passed under the vaulted ceilings, enjoyed the sunlight through these huge stained-glass windows.

But they didn’t walk on carpet on their way to eat in a Michelin-starred dining room. They didn’t rock in the huge wooden swing by the lake. Nor would they have crossed the hump-backed bridge to the tiny island with its trees and treehouse.

Back then there were no swings or treehouses and the lake was a sewage facility for the 12th century monastery. Now the lake is a home to ducks and a family of herons, and the abbey-turned-hotel has been sympathetically preserved by an English family to display its wonderful architecture to a whole new generation of worshipers.

Only now we come to admire the beauty of the building, the gourmet food and the tranquil setting instead of God. But if you have any spiritual awareness at all, you’ll quickly find this beautiful place resonating with your soul.

There are 20 rooms in total at the Abbaye de la Bussière explains owner Clive Cummings when he picks us up at Dijon train station, a half hour drive from the abbey, including rooms in the main house as well as the various other buildings around the grounds, some of which have been converted into family suites.

There are two restaurants, again with soaring arches and magnificent architecture. The fine dining Michelin-starred restaurant is a grand affair with stone arches and chandeliers and offers both a tasting menu – matched with wines – and an a la carte, with choices including frogs’ legs, local freshwater zander and pigeon. But in fairness, the quality of the food is just as good in the hotel bistro, pictured below.

Our cosy double is nestled under the eaves with views of the gardens and lake. As befits its luxurious setting, it’s kitted out with a Nespresso machine and a welcome bottle of home-made peach liqueur – there’s a jacuzzi bath in the bathroom, fluffy robes and slippers in the wardrobe.

Read on…

I’m watching the photos emerging from several days of protest in Beirut with some dismay. Just last week I walked around the streets of the city and stood in the square close to the mosque and Christian church where fires now blaze.
This weekend also, the President of Ireland was evacuated from the hotel I stayed in, the glamorous Phoenicia overlooking the waterfront. Hardly surprising. In a city as small as Beirut, a fire anywhere is not going to be too far away from the hotel – not close enough to put him in any danger but close enough to make minders uneasy.
Last Sunday I stood looking into the parliament square where a protest was underway, a peaceful protest where hundreds of people stood with placards, calling for fairness in their government. It was made up of all ages, the young and the old, people, it seemed to me, from all walks of life.
It was just like the protest I took part in on Saturday in London, where hundreds of thousands of us, young and old, from all walks of life, marched with placards and called for fairness in our own government.

But the Beirut protests erupted in flames after the government introduced even more crippling taxes for its already financially stretched population – and flames make headlines. Beirut is only putting itself back together after the nightmare of its 15-year civil war, from 1975 to 1990, when the very name of the city became a catch word for destruction and mayhem and violence. It began as a religious war as East fought against West and Israeli and Syrian forces entered the country, but alliances shifted rapidly and unpredictably. 120,000 people were killed during the fighting, one million left, 76,000 still remain displaced within the country.
Going there last weekend, I hadn’t expected to find a city that was so beautiful, so calm and so welcoming. There are still streets of war-torn houses and bullet-marked walls but there are many more streets of preserved 18th and 19th century buildings and attractive Art Deco and 1930s architecture.

Entire areas of the city have been completely rebuilt, using a modern take on classical design, here you’ll find the designer shops, the posh restaurants, the stylish cafes and bars. In more run-down streets are the businesses that survived the war, the oldest Armenian bakery in the city, the traditional spice shops and coffee houses.
Around another corner there are contemporary glass buildings with their penthouse apartments – some built over the city’s ancient Roman ruins, preserved in the glass enclosed foundations. These sit alongside streets of 1940s, ‘50s and ‘60s architecture, Brutalist blocks of concrete, the ancient sitting beside the new.
The old sits beside the new in the culture and lifestyle as well, here you will see Muslim women in traditional dress as well as in Western clothes. On a day trip from Beirut to the coastal city of Tyre, I watched a group of Lebanese teenagers party on the beach, a few swimming in the sea, where a girl in full hijab floated alongside her friend in a swimsuit.

There are businesses with a conscience here in Beirut, proving that progress is not all about blind capitalism. Sarah’s Bag and Bajoka both work with underprivileged communities to produce their products – Sarah’s Bag employing female prisoners to make designer handbags for which they are paid a wage, Bajoka keeping the skills of the refugee community alive in their high-end homewares.
With all that was destroyed in the Lebanese war, it’s amazing so much remains. There are growing numbers of tourists and facilities for them – as well as the luxury hotels like the Phoenicia, lower cost guesthouses are opening up as well as hostels.
Today, the UK government confirm that protests have been generally peaceful, but there has been sporadic violence, including clashes between protestors and security forces, vandalism and looting. Banks remain closed, and there are reports of some ATMs being low on cash.

Beirut was described as the ‘Paris of the Middle East’ in its 1960s heyday and the Phoenicia was the jewel in its crown with its majestic entrance staircase, marble lounges and chandeliers.

It’s clear those days can come back if the unrest settles, if the problems of high prices and the country’s political elite, perceived as out of touch and insensitive to the problem of its citizens, are resolved. National debt is high – more than 150% of the country’s GDP. The militia leaders of the war, who came to political power afterwards in a system based on power sharing between religious groups, have been criticised for plundering the state to hand out privileges, jobs and lucrative contacts to supporters. The country’s premier, Saad al-Hariri, gave his partners in government an ultimatum to agree a package of reform to ward off economic collapse.
There’s something of an irony in all of this. Divided in war time into religious factions, last week’s protests united the people of Lebanon as Christians, Sunni and Shia Muslims gathered together to call for the corrupt political elite to stand down.
Unity and inclusive leadership are what the country needs. I hope it achieves its aims and continues to welcome travellers to experience its wonderful charms.

The heart-breaking job of burying the dead was still underway in Sri Lanka this week when three cornered suicide bombers blew themselves up on Friday night during a security forces operation, killing 15 others, including six children.

Another devastating blow for the people of Sri Lanka who last week, on Easter Sunday, witnessed their country racked apart when suicide bombers took up position in three churches and three luxury hotels and detonated their terrible packages. A statement from Isis said that churches and hotels with foreign guests from “crusader” countries had been struck.

I was one of those “crusading guests” who visited Sri Lanka last September, staying at the Shangri-La hotel in Colombo, having breakfast in that same dining room that was last week ripped apart by two bomb blasts that killed entire families.

I chatted to the friendly staff, met many kind people who welcomed us to the hotel and Sri Lanka, delighted that after many years of civil war in their country, tourists were now returning and boosting the economy, providing jobs and income. (Twenty-six years of fighting between the government and the Tamils ended just ten years ago).

The driver who picked us up at the airport at 4.30am stopped his car as he drove through the dark city so he could buy us two fresh coconuts from the early morning stall-holders who were just setting up by the river. We drank coconut milk as the sun came up and the driver told us how happy he was we had come to his country. (He also told us how delighted he was to see my friend Rob’s dreadlocks – “the first time I have ever seen hair like this,” he said)

Later that day we zipped through the city streets in a tuk-tuk – presented with more fresh coconuts by our driver Rex as we climbed abroad.

We wound our way through the traffic as people waved from neighbouring scooters, children laughing as we overtook them, waving furiously with wide smiles as they overtook us.

We met groups of men in the Spice Market who wanted to come and shake our hands and have their photo taken by Rob. With wide smiles and thumbs up they posed madly. And later, one man who had stayed outside of the group shyly approached Rob to ask if he could have his picture taken too.

We learned the history of Sri Lanka’s proud past in the tea shops, ate lunch with locals in the market – the men sitting with us at the communal tables gesturing at the staff to bring me some cutlery, so that I wouldn’t have to look like a foreign idiot eating with my hand as they did.

We went down streets that have only been opened recently to the public following the years of fighting, the bullet holes still clearly visible in the walls. And everywhere we went we found friendliness and kindness – Rob is still in touch with many of the people we met on our visit.

Yesterday the British government issued a statement advising against travel to Sri Lanka, except in essential cases. The country will suffer loss of income from foreign travellers and no doubt many of the people we met will lose their jobs. Another heart-break.

But while the bombers have wrecked great destruction and tremendous horror on the country, they can’t take away its spirit – the spirit of kindness, friendliness and welcome. The welcome that the suicide bomber who entered the Protestant Zion church in Batticaloa received from the pastor’s teenage son – killed moments later – is unutterably poignant and heart-rending.

But kindness and love will win out over hatred and hostility. I believe this. I believe that the spirit of the Sri Lankan people will win. And people will return to the country again, to show solidarity and to show those that attempt to spread fear and hate, that you will not succeed.

Christian churches and western style hotels were targeted in the hate attacks. Only just over 7% of the country is Christian. 9% is Muslim, 12% is Hindu and the overwhelming majority, 70% of the 20m Sri Lankan population, are Theravada Buddhists. There are 6,000 Buddhist monasteries in Sri Lanka, over 15,000 Buddhist monks and thousands and thousands of temples.

Theravada is the most ancient form of Buddhism, a practice that teaches its followers to develop the qualities of awareness, kindness and wisdom to reach a state of complete freedom from any spiritual, emotional or mental restrictions or limitations. It teaches that nothing is fixed or permanent, actions have consequences and change is possible. And so I believe that hate doesn’t have to be permanent, that change is possible.

On our last day in Sri Lanka, having travelled to the south of the country, we visited one of the temples – Mulkirigala Rock Temple, where we climbed over 500 steps to visit seven caves on five terraces, with their ornate wall paintings and huge reclining Buddhas. We met a monk called Siriniwasa, who was wary at first when Rob, having asked our guide if it would be appropriate to ask for a photo, approached him.

And after posing for a few photos with his young Buddhist apprentices, he eventually whipped out a mobile phone from under his robes and asked if Rob could take a photo of them all with it. I was eventually persuaded into the group to take photos of Rob with the monks, all of them beaming furiously. By now fast friends, Siriniwasa asked Rob to help them plant a tree and he did, there at the top of Mulkirigala, everybody delighted with their new found friendship.

I’ll go back to Sri Lanka again. I’ll go back to see the people we met, to see how they’re coping and to see if Rob’s tree has grown. I very much look forward to it.

******

I first wrote about my trip to Sri Lanka for The Scotsman newspaper and it was published in December 2018 using Rob’s photos

There’s an elephant standing a few metres away from our jeep in Sri Lanka’s Udawalawe National Park, engaged in a very elaborate breakfast routine. Kicking the grass to loosen it, he tugs it free, then rolls it painstakingly with his trunk, constantly repeating the process over and over – kicking, tugging, rolling – an awful lot of hard work to make each small mouthful.

So far this morning we’ve seen elephants, spotted deer and water buffalo as well as a myriad of birds. But the most magical moment of all was on our way to the elephant transit centre, where abandoned baby elephants are cared for before being introduced back into the wild, when a – clearly selfie-conscious – large male elephant came to the edge of the road for a photo.

Standing the other side of a thin wire fence where a few other jeeps had also pulled up, he moved over to each new arrival, waiting patiently until they’d had their photo taken with him before moving on to the next group. “This is such kindness,” said our guide Palinder in wonder as we snapped away furiously.

Read the rest of the article published in The Scotsman…

All photos by Rob Wilson Jnr, Fluid4Sight

The island of Nevis in the West Indies doesn’t have an airport big enough to land international aircraft. Instead we land at St Kitt’s, drive for 20-minutes to Reggae Beach and board a water taxi for a 6-minute speedboat ride across the bay, arriving James Bond style on its white sandy shores.

Nevis is one of the smaller and lesser known Caribbean islands, despite the fact it was ruled by the British for over 200 years and was for a time the home of Admiral Nelson. Which means the Queen’s head is still on the local banknotes and English is the first language. Your bank card will work in the cashpoints and you don’t need a visa to enter.

The island measures just 36 square miles and has a population of 11,000, with the twin islands of Nevis and St Kitts making up the smallest nation in the western hemisphere. “Two islands, one paradise,” says the tourist board slogan.

Nevis offers the rare luxury of “exclusivity”, this unspoiled gem is how the Caribbean used to be, says its Minister for Tourism, Mark Brantley; “there are no high rises or fast food chains, no all-inclusive package holidays or mass tourism”. Neither are there cruise ships, traffic lights or bustling crowds, here you’ll find more monkeys than people, a place where sheep and goats graze freely at the sides of the roads.

Princess Diana used it as a refuge, holidaying here with the young princes and Harry returned on a royal tour of duty in 2016. It’s a favourite spot with Oprah Winfrey and Beyonce, Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones, John Travolta and Meryl Streep.

Read on the rest of the story in a feature recently published in The Scotsman travel magazine…

‘The Isle of Wight is how England was 40 years ago.’

So says David Barratt, my host on the island and owner of the very beautiful Haven Hall.

Forty years ago. 1978. Labour was in power, James Callaghan was Prime Minister and people stopped hunting the otter as it became a protected species. May Day became a bank holiday, the world’s first IVF baby was born in Oldham and bakers and the BBC went on strike. The Bee Gees’ ‘Night Fever’ was number one for two months and Annie Hall won the Oscar for Best Film.

But I can’t really pass judgement on how England was back then. I was a 9-year-old in the west of Ireland, just discovering Top of the Pops but already an aficionado of Blue Peter and – previously – Play School. So I had plenty of English cultural references, but from the far side of the Irish sea.

But I can tell you how the Isle of Wight is right now.

Good. In a word.

Or in two words. Very good.

If by ‘England 40 years ago, he means a slower, steadier, calmer pace of life, then yes, that’s spot on. It’s a place where people chat to you on buses and the buses take you on scenic drives through beautiful countryside. It’s not the most efficient way to travel – my half-an-hour drive from West Cowes, where the Southampton passenger ferry docks, to Haven Hall at Shanklin beach takes almost two hours on two buses.

But if you’re happy to sit back and take in the scenery, the picture-perfect villages with thatched cottages and trailing roses, the green fields stretching away to golden beaches, and you’ve got a leisurely day to spend, then why would you rush through it? This is slow living at its best.

But you can do it faster. The total journey time from London Waterloo to Haven Hall is two and a half hours if you take the fast ferry to the island and on to Shanklin by train. A new Red Funnel passenger ferry has just been launched, which is lighter, more efficient, more manoeuvrable, quieter and smoother. It takes just 25 minutes to speed across from Southampton and if you arrive by train, a free shuttle bus will take you to the ferry terminal with ferries running every half hour. If you’re driving, the car ferry crosses every hour from Southampton to East Cowes.

If you’re coming from London or the South East, it’s a quick and easy journey – and, at the end of it, here you are on the edge of an island with cliffside walks to the beach. Two acres of beautifully planted landscaped gardens overlook the sea and local resident Alan Titchmarsh voted this the Best Commercial Garden 2017 for Isle of Wight in Bloom. The Hall’s other celebrity fans include actor Colin Firth, who has visited with his family twice, footballer Peter Crouch and his wife Abi Clancy and comedian Jimmy Carr.

There’s an outdoor swimming pool that’s solar heated to a comfortable 26 degrees on the day I visit, grass tennis courts, sunloungers on the lawns and a pergola that is more in the nature of a beautiful piece of sculpture, set in the gardens looking out to sea. And there’s a cliffside walk to the beach where you can eat at Fisherman’s Cottage, sitting at an outside table, just a few feet away from the waves lapping on the sand.

The hall has 14 bespoke bedrooms with sea views, which includes seven apartments, all individually designed by David’s wife Arielle. The couple bought the property, a run-down Edwardian mansion built as a private home in 1908 and run as a hotel since the 1950s, because of its location and their dream of what it could become. But not without a considerable amount of work. Its last incarnation, a hostel for school children in the 1970s, saw its grand spaces converted into a warren of tiny rooms stacked with bunk beds.

“The contractor said year and a half to complete it and we were reasonably happy with that and the budget that was allocated for it,” said David. The project went on to take four and a half years to finish at almost four times the original budget.

“You take the wallpaper down and the plaster falls off the wall, you discover the wiring is terrible and if you’re re-doing the wiring, you might as well re-do the plumbing. If you’re doing that, then why not add air conditioning, and soon you find you’re taking most of the roof off as well,” he explains ruefully. “I fired the first two project managers and ended up doing the job myself. At any one time we had up to 55 workmen on the site, 3 people working full time renovating period furniture and 11 shipping containers storing everything we were buying at auction to kit it all out.”

And while they might not have had to move heaven to achieve their dreams, they certainly had to move earth – several hundred tonnes of it, completely remodelling the grounds to make the most of the stunning location and its spectacular view.

The couple lived on the property through the renovations, “either in a sea of mud or a cloud of dust,” says David. But he is no stranger to complex building projects.

Originally from Newcastle, he spent all of his working life in California and Hawaii, running his own property companies. He left England, he explains, because he didn’t want to live in the shadow of his father, the man who built Britain’s largest building company, Barratt Homes. Sir Lawrie Barratt was “a hard act to follow,” says David.

“He lived through the war, built his own billion-pound company and was knighted by the Queen. He valued working for yourself, so he didn’t want me to work for him or anybody else. He gave me enough money to set myself up so I went to the US and made all of my own mistakes.”

But he still missed the UK. “I enjoyed the US but there were parts of England I was always yearning for, like Radio 4 and intelligence.”

Moving back to the UK when his father was ill, he ended up divorcing when his daughter went to university and meeting Arielle while he was living in London. An art graduate from Yale and the Slade School – whose keen eye for design is evident throughout Haven Hall – the pair wanted to find a home together, looking at various parts of the south of England and then – as he describes it – “discovering” the Isle of Wight.

Describing this period as the next stage of their lives, he explains that they had to find what they wanted to do. “I didn’t want to just be someone on the golf course who used to do something. Both of us are do-ers, we’re both creative and we love meeting new people.”

Now he’s combined his passions. An island haven that is home, where he can entertain people from all over the world. They’ve been coming since the start of the year when the hotel opened its doors – from international worlds of culture, politics, business and entertainment; CEOs, high court judges and Colin Firth. And in this picture-perfect setting perched high over the ocean, no doubt it will continue.

For more information and to book visit www.havenhall.uk, phone 07914 796 494 or email info@havenhall.co.uk

Where to go and what to do on the Isle of Wight – see our top recommendations here

A grand-turn-of-the-century mansion house hotel is a great place to play at being a duchess, as I found out

Tylney Hall is a very grand turn-of-the-century stately home hotel in 66 acres of Hampshire countryside. It’s very Downton Abbey – a family home for three and a half centuries, though the current building dates from 1901, it was used as a hospital during the First World War. And Highclere Castle, where Downton was filmed, is less than an hour’s drive away.

It’s been a home for the Tylneys (who owned a sizeable chunk of Hampshire in the 1700’s) and the Earl of Mornington (who demolished the 18th century mansion house so he could sell the timber in the surrounding woodlands – the terms of his inheritance stated he couldn’t fell it while the house was standing, easy that – he just knocked it down). Baronet Lionel Philips built the current house and after him came Lord and Lady Rotherwick who lived there until the 1940s, when the house was sold and became a school until 1984. It re-opened as a hotel in 1985 after being restored to its former glory.

It’s a building fit for a whole bevy of lords and ladies, dowager countesses, delicate Turkish princes and other distinguished guests. Sweep down the grand oak panelled staircase and make believe you’ve just been summoned by Carson’s gong for dinner. The wood was imported by the Baronet from Italy, probably around the same time he was shipping over an ornate ceiling from the Grimation Palace in Florence and installing it in what is now the Italian Lounge, popular for afternoon tea.

The Baronet’s library is still full of books, only now there’s a bar there as well. All of the lounges have huge fireplaces and – real! – open fires. Pastoral landscapes line the high-ceilinged corridors upstairs and there are suites for private parties and corporate meetings (the Hall is just an hour’s drive from London). Everywhere there are beautiful views of the grounds – formal gardens, woodland and wild meadows, a boathouse lake and sculpted fountains. Sit on the beautiful stone terrace and look down what is claimed to be the longest uninterrupted view in Hampshire – though you won’t be able to see the bomb shelter at the end from here. What a long scary run that must have been …

What are the rooms like?
The bedrooms in the main house have beautiful views over the formal Italian gardens and lake beyond (deluxe rooms from £220, garden view for £255). The rest of the 112 rooms are housed in the garden courtyards in former outhouses and have their own front doors opening onto lushly planted lawns. Great for families, you’ll be able to hear the ducks quacking in the nearby water garden. Or stay in one of the Orangery suites (from £430) and the ducks will be right on your doorstep.

My room is in the main house and has a huge marble fireplace and big bay windows. It’s a quirky blend of old and new – a shiny Nespresso machine on a leather-topped period table, an iPod dock on the retro mahogany desk. It’s a junior suite (from £360) so I have a couch and armchairs with a view of the lake.

What’s in the bathroom?
The shock of modernity! After all the floral soft furnishings and period furniture next door, the bathroom is a contemporary surprise. There’s a large corner bath, toiletries are by Molton Brown and the fluffy robes and slippers on the back of the door are standard in every room.

How’s the bed?
King size with a floral pelmet trim. The pillows are so vast and comfortable that I’m discussing them on Twitter at 7am the next morning – up with the sun for an early morning walk, country estates do that to me when they’re outside my window.

What about eating and drinking?
The Oak Room dining room was the Baronet’s smoking room, it’s a very grand space with a high Baroque ceiling, floor-to-ceiling windows and beautifully dressed, white linen-clothed tables. Gentlemen, ties please.
Sunday lunch is very popular with locals and hotel guests (from £29.50 for three courses) and evening dinner offers a Table d’hote menu (£31.50 for 2 courses, £39.50 for 3) or a la carte (£49.50 for 3 courses). Food is local as far as possible, with herbs and some veg from the hotel’s kitchen garden.
The chef sends out a smoked salmon amuse bouche to start the meal, and there’s a lady wheeling roast beef around in a large silver carving trolley. It’s all very old world and hospitable. There’s a pianist tinkling his way through classical and pop but I don’t stick around once I’ve finished my cheesecake – it’s 9pm, Downton time! What could be better than watching Downton Abbey while feeling like you’ve wandered into it?

Anything else?
There’s a leisure centre with gym and a snooker room – even if you don’t play, check out the fantastic black and white photos of Tylney as a private residence on the walls. There’s a spa offering Kerstin Florian treatments, as well as a light-filled indoor pool, whirlpool and saunas.

Come in the summer and laze on the loungers by the lovely outdoor pool in the garden. There are mapped-out walks around the grounds, as well as packs of games and adventures for families. There’s an 18-hole golf course if you’re that way inclined, tennis courts and a croquet lawn, plus the hotel can organise archery, falconry, horse riding and clay pigeon shooting for guests.

What’s nearby?
There’s plenty to keep you entertained if you tire of being a duchess. Basingstoke Leisure Park is a 15-minute drive, Legoland 40-minutes and Thorpe Park just 45. And you can be at Highclere Castle – the ‘real’ Downton Abbey – Winchester Cathedral or Stonehenge, all in under an hour.

Where is it and how do I book?
Tylney Hall Hotel is located at Rotherwick, Hook, in Hampshire. For information and booking contact the hotel on 01256 764881 or visit the website at www.elitehotels.co.uk.

A man is strapping me into a seat hanging off a hand glider. It’s not quite a hand glider however, it has a small motorised propeller at the back and a second seat in front for the man who will guide this contraption, using only a metal bar. On this we will fly high above the Victoria Falls waterfall on the Zambezi river – 1500 feet above to be precise.

‘Done this much before?’ I ask, trying to make it sound like I’m making casual conversation rather than grilling him in panic. He chuckles.

‘Do you get asked that a lot?’

He nods.

‘Every time’.

I get through the bit where we’re actually lifting off the ground and into the air by pretending I’m dreaming. But as we rise higher and higher and Zambia’s vast landscape of mighty river, waterfalls and miles and miles of national park spreads out below us, I am gobsmacked by the beauty of it all and forget to be scared. Though I do have a momentary quiver when my guide points out a crocodile far below, feeding on a dead hippopotamus on the bank of the river.

Known locally as the ‘smoke that thunders’, Victoria Falls is one of the world’s greatest wonders. Missionary and physician David Livingstone was the first European to enjoy the water’s magnificence in the 19th century, shortly before he lost contact with the world for four years. He was eventually tracked down by the explorer Henry Stanley, with those immortal words, ‘Dr Livingstone I presume’. The Falls are close to the border with Zimbabwe; my mobile phone constantly beeps welcomes to both countries as I move around in the area.

Riverside accommodation

If you’re travelling to Zambia, the best place to stay is on the banks of the Zambezi itself. Fly to Livingstone airport and take a water taxi speedboat to your hotel James-Bond-style. Choose the Royal Livingstone hotel and have staff in traditional dress turn up to welcome you on the private landing jetty.

Our river journey to the hotel was magical – a blue sky, sunshine and my first glimpse of hippos, basking in the water as we passed. Two elephants came to the river’s edge to drink, provoking excited screams from our boat and a herd of antelope passed by on the far bank. What’s next, I wondered – lions and tigers and bears? – feeling almost hysterical with excitement. Monkeys, giraffes and zebras it turned out – just a few feet away from my room in the hotel gardens. Though the monkeys ventured a bit closer and enjoyed a little sit down on my patio chairs!

The Royal Livingstone is slap bang in the middle of a national park, and the resident wildlife are so used to people they seem constantly not to notice me just a few feet away. Again, apart from the monkeys who are constantly on high alert for any spare food. Breakfast at the hotel is an entertaining stand-off between human and monkey, as staff patrol the terrace to chase them away – though an occasional one will make a break for an unattended toast rack and leave at top speed, holding his breakfast trophy high in victory.

From the hotel’s beautiful riverside terrace, the spray of the Victoria Falls is visible rising hundreds of feet into the air. From here it’s an easy speedboat ride to Livingstone Island where you can swim in a rock pool at the edge of the waterfall and return to the island for a cooked breakfast, served under canvas.

Zambian memories

I have so many wonderful memories of Zambia. Like taking a sunset cruise on the African Queen riverboat down the Zambezi, past hippos at their dinner (happily they’re vegetarians) and mooring to watch the sun set in a blazing ball of red light.

Or having an elegant dinner aboard the Royal Livingstone Express steam train, children along the way running out to chase the train, smiling and waving and shouting ‘hello’ and occasionally ‘do you have sweets’.

Or visiting the village of Mukuni, which benefits from projects set up by the hotel’s owner, Sun International, to help the local community and channel resources back into the areas it works in. The Royal Livingstone has its own charity project worker who co-ordinates all of its activities.

Or taking a walking tour of Victoria Falls – or, the most memorable of all – flying 1500 feet above it in a micro-light just a few hours before I flew back to the UK. My life since my return is certainly not as exciting as it was in Zambia. But it’s definitely richer for having been there.

What to do in Zambia

Where to stay: The five-star Royal Livingstone hotel offers a plush colonial feel on the banks of the Zambezi with beautiful garden-view accommodation, al-fresco dining and resident giraffes, monkeys and antelopes. For more information visit www.suninternational.com. A four night luxury package starts from £1,599 per person, including international return flights with SAA and transfers. To book please call 0871 703 4240.

How to get there: We flew from Cape Town to Livingstone with Zambezi Airlines, for more information and booking visit www.flyzambezi.com. Livingstone airport, though small, is a hub of African and international travel – we returned to the UK with South African Airways, via Johannesburg. South African Airways has the largest route network within Southern Africa, offering flights to over 30 destinations, with daily direct overnight flights to Johannesburg and Cape Town from London Heathrow. For more details visit www.flysaa.com, talk to your travel agent or call on 0844 375 9680.