Sophia Money-Coutts: my£35k stay chez Middleton
Eyeing a post-lockdown break? You can join Kate and Pippa’s brother at a luxury Scottish lodge for just £35,000
No “elaborate” holidays this summer, then, as ordered by the Government, although I’m confused about what this actually means. A threeday camping trip to Bognor Regis where somebody else heats up the baked beans would feel pretty elaborate right now, but perhaps our ambitions will have risen by June.
Consequently, the super-rich are said to be investing in the most spendy holidays they can without leaving British shores. Luxury travel agency Abercrombie & Kent is touting a £600,000 jaunt around Scotland, which includes travelling on a private train, seats in the royal box for the Edinburgh Tattoo and a tennis game with Andy Murray.
It’s not clear whether Andy knows he’s been enlisted for a knockabout with whichever oligarch shells out for this jolly, or if the holiday menu includes that Aberdonian delicacy, the deep-fried Mars bar, but it’s a two-week itinerary for a family of four, if you’re interested.
Alternatively, according to a newspaper report I read about this phenomenon, you could drop £35,000 for a week at a Victorian lodge called Glen Affric, an hour south-west of Inverness. “What the devil?” I hear you cry, “Victorian lodges are as common as deep-fried Mars bars in those parts, what’s so special about this one?”
Well, for that price, you’ll be hosted for the week by the Duchess of Cambridge’s brother, James Middleton.
I happen to know a bit about this lodge, since I’ve stayed there with James. Don’t be silly, I didn’t pay. It was for a travel piece since journalists are often invited on extremely nice holidays and write three very short sentences about them in the newspaper afterwards. Glen Affric is owned by the Matthews family. You know who I mean, Pippa Middleton’s in-laws. That’s the link with James. Mr Matthews bought this gaff in 2008 and set about turning it into the sort of place that Americans with Roman numerals in their name fantasise about.
Unlike other Scottish lodges, at Glen Affric there’s enough hot water for everyone to have their own bath every night and it’s also sensationally beautiful. The lodge sits on the edge of the three-mile Loch Affric and, from my tartan bedroom at dusk one evening, I watched a mob of stags frolic about its shallows like teenage boys playing truant in a playground. James – charming, smiley, very obliging – gets up early to greet guests each morning and talk through the activities on offer.
You can kill things in season (fish, deer, partridge); paddleboard, sail or kayak on the water; hike; bird-watch or picnic on the beach, which I recommend because the Michelin-starred chef throws together a hamper including coronation chicken wraps, pheasant-flavoured crisps and miniature bottles of Glen Affric bramble gin, which I merrily bowled through. There’s a spa, a yoga studio, staff wear kilts and there are bowls of chocolate Lindor balls in almost every room. After I returned to London, I found wrappers in my pockets for weeks ( journalists really are the pits).
The only thing I wimped out of was a swim in the loch every morning. James encouraged this, promising that I’d feel “amazing” afterwards. But the thought of leaping into the icy water, revealing my pimply thighs to the brother of the most famous bottom in the world, just didn’t do it for me. Although if you can afford £35,000 a week for a holiday, then you probably have a personal trainer and a perfectly nice bottom. So that won’t be a problem for you.
I watched stags frolic about the loch’s shallows like teenage boys playing truant in a playground