Did the earth move? 9 on the Richter scale. Big is beautiful.

If the Hotel du Vin were a sex symbol, it would be: James Bond — faultless, professional, effective.

Hotel du Vin & Bistro, 01423 856800, www.hotelduvin.com doubles from £95, Moët suite from £225, room-only

Page 2: Hotel du Vin, harrogate
Page 3: K West, London
Page 4: Hotel Pelirocco, Brighton
Page 5: Aphrodite's Lodge, Windermere
Page 6: The Witchery, Edinburgh
Page 7: Castle Leslie, Co Monaghan
Page 8: book a valentine treat

()K WEST
London

Why? For the famed Smut Drawer, a sort of X-rated minibar that the thoughtful management keeps stocked with a selection of sexual accoutrements.

First impressions: tucked away behind less-than-glamorous Shepherd's Bush Green, K West is the textbook design hotel: an uncompromisingly modern building housing lots of beige and brown, Philippe Starck bathrooms and enough technology to make you feel thoroughly inadequate when you can't work any of it (our room had no fewer than five remote controls).

How did it go? We made straight for the smut. The drawer had one of those compelling "Do-not-look-if-you-are-easily- offended" warnings Sellotaped to the top. Eagerly anticipating being terribly offended, we flicked it open, and...

Perhaps we'd expected too much, but it was a bit of a disappointment. The only shocking things were the prices. There was some massage oil for £15 and a vibrator for £35, which seemed a bit steep, but I'm no expert on these things. A small notice on the back of it read: "Do not use on unexplained calf pain." How odd. After a short discussion, we agreed not to use it on our calves, or, indeed, anywhere else.

The rest of the selection was pretty lacklustre, too. There were some flimsy-looking handcuffs for £28, a book on erotic massage for £30, and the most expensive condoms I've ever seen (three for £8). I don't want to harp on about the price thing — I realise this is not making me sound like the world's greatest date — but really.

Feeling crestfallen, we perused the DVD-hire menu — we didn't want that enormous plasma screen going to waste. Bingo: after a page of the usual bland movies came a few rather more "mature" offerings. I dialled reception.

"A copy of Aching and Ready, please." Honestly, that's what it was called. When will the makers of these things realise that names like this are a serious disincentive to the sensitive customer? I was pleased with my steady, matter-of-fact tone, but Jaqui told me later I was flushing an interesting shade of pink.

"One moment, sir," said a completely unfazed female voice. "No, I'm afraid that's already rented."

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