TRAVEL: Revived by Prague

IN the warmly-lit bathroom, a small but handsome analogue clock, crafted by a now defunct firm, built into the steam-free plate mirror reads 7:03am. I look at my temporarily aged hands, and urgently lather them with the aromatic Asprey wash. I look into my eyes, a Stracciatella of fatigue, and watch as a flicker of optimism for the day ahead blurs some of the strain away. I look down at my lumpen feet, being claimed by gravity, yet calmed by the weave of the Turkish rug. I begin, mentally, to look respectable to take the tour of Prague’s first five-star hotel, where I have awoken...

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