After ten days in our small, dark basement, my Mum moved into the Four Seasons for a day for bright sunlight, silence and frette linens. We hung out for the afternoon — me reading magazines in bed, and the children splashing about at the spa. If not for this buggar of a cold, I would have come swimming, too. I rarely skip on the chance for a swim. Even the plague wouldn’t stop me from diving into this David Hockney pool.