Il Sereno

After a few missed turns (and some embarrassing overtaking by old Italian ladies) we arrive, eventually, in our little hire car which is kindly parked for us. We make our way to reception passing the most stunning of pools (it’s heated to 27 degrees, you know). We utter ‘Wow’ a lot and wield our cameras instinctively.

Il Sereno’s reception is expansive and modern and leads to a chic lounge area with the most comfortable soft leather sofas, perfect lake views and a bar. Modern it may be but it sits perfectly against the surrounding mountains.

It’s mild enough for us to enjoy our welcome drinks on the terrace where we sit in silence staring longingly at the pool and admiring breath-taking (and foggy) Lake Como. There is nothing pretentious here. Lounge in your shorts and trainers if you wish, or don your Oscar de la Renta frock – no one will bat an eyelid.

Our bedroom, the Alcova, is a large, simply decorated suite overlooking the lake. Our bathroom is huge with double sinks, which I love, and a giant walk-in shower that could easily fit four if that takes your fancy… We take an afternoon nap and leave our curtains open – this view is just too magnificent to hide, despite the fog’s best efforts.

Brownie points to the team on reception for the evening’s dinner recommendation. Osteria del Gallo, about 20 minutes away in town, is packed with rustic charm: checked table cloths, no menu, just home-cooked Italian food. Delicious. Breakfast at Il Sereno the next day is just as sublime: an elegant twist on a full English, served on the heated terrace of the restaurant, Berton Al Lago. Although all 30 rooms are apparently occupied, we feel like we’re the only guests.

That night’s dinner is booked in the same restaurant, the final night of our fleeting trip. In the end, we shift our booking back – we’re enjoying our pre-dinner drinks in the bar too much. When we do head downstairs for dinner, we’re seated in the same seats we had for breakfast. I always like being a creature of comfort.

The restaurant was bustling – the UAE Ferrari Owners Club were in town – but I suspect these autumnal evenings are usually a little quieter.

Mr Smith wants to order the degustation menu; I want to go à la carte. I win, of course, and we ask the Sommelier to pair drinks with each course and leave him to his devices. I start with a potent, but very tasty, French 75 – and then the feast begins.

‘The best I’ve ever eaten’ says Mr Smith of his steak tartare. My scampi tails – raw and cooked with pickled cucumber and green apple – are a sensation. Portions are generous – I’ve yet to work out how Italians manage an antipasti dish, primi and secondi and then dessert. We’re full after the primi but plough on gallantly (after we ask for a little breather). Every course that follows is thoughtfully created and the service is attentive without being overbearing.

Our morning of departure arrives, disappointingly, and we get a call saying there’s a problem with our hire car. Almost immediately follows: ‘But we have a solution’. The car, it turns out, is stuck in the car park lift (thankfully not one of those Ferraris, I guess). The hotel explain that they’ll return our car for us and pay any extra charges while we’re ushered to a waiting Maserati instead and ferried to the airport. The staff are mortified with their lift glitch – but, settled into the leather seats, our driver in front of us, we don’t mind one bit. Our only regret? We never took a dip in that pool…