The Hamilton's on honeymoon

CHRISTINE: “Don’t worry, darling,” Neil blithely assured me. “Life with me will be one long honeymoon.” Mrs Thatcher had just announced the 1983 general election for June 9 – five days after our wedding. Married in Cornwall, we rushed back to Neil’s Cheshire constituency; instead of my planned romantic idyll in Venice, I had to share my new husband with 70,000 constituents and the other bossy blonde in his life: Mrs T. Never in 25 years had he compensated by whisking me there for even a weekend break. So I leapt at the chance of a silver wedding anniversary visit last month. It did not start well…

NEIL: “I’m sorry,” said the clerk at the world-renowned Hotel Cipriani, “but we’ve not heard of the Hamiltons.” Had we really waited 25 years, got up at 5am, travelled by car, plane and boat, to be greeted with this bombshell? The real test of a hotel is how it rises to a crisis and, take it from me, Christine arriving unannounced is a crisis. The Cipriani proved more than equal to the challenge.

One complimentary glass of prosecco (the delicious local riposte to champagne) turned into a bottle as we waited, savouring the unsurpassed view over the lagoon from the exclusive island of Giudecca, where the hotel is situated. The “hiccup” (nothing to do with the hotel) was seamlessly sorted but, happily, not quite quickly enough. So, while the ferry boats bobbed across the Giudecca Canal and our magnificent suite was prepared, the hotel invited us to enjoy a delectable meal. We soon felt alarmingly at home in this opulently exclusive world.

The Cipriani doesn’t do glitz. Its unassuming elegance speaks of “old money” and nothing shocks eye or ear; no startling colours, sharp minimalist furniture or intrusive music beyond the occasional piano tinkle – just understated elegance in the Venetian equivalent of an English country house. With space at a premium in the city, its vast gardens and swimming pool are unique. It would have been very easy to stay cocooned but Venice beckoned seductively, a mere four minutes away by complimentary motor launch.

CHRISTINE: The only transport in Venice is boat or foot – there are no bicycles, let alone cars. Although inseparable from the image of the city, a gondola ride was denied me by Neil on the grounds that they are ludicrously expensive. Graciously, I was allowed a photograph but only while we remained moored. Everyone travels by the cheap and frequent vaporetti (water buses).

Venice remains a dream, even sandwiched thigh to thigh on one of these with someone else’s rucksack thrust into your back. The glories of the Grand Canal obliterate all thoughts of discomfort – chugging past Renaissance palaces and a dazzling variety of Gothic windows, river craft jostling on all sides, you feel part of a living historical pageant.

Unlike any other city, Venice is still probably best known not from photographs but far more from paintings by 18th-century artists such as Canaletto. Apart from the clothes, these picture-postcard scenes remain virtually unchanged; there has been little redevelopment and the only jarring note is the widespread graffiti.

Even the Rialto Bridge, the mercantile centre of the city long before Shakespeare immortalised it in The Merchant Of Venice, has not escaped the spray cans. Its single stone arch and rows of covered shops have spanned the Grand Canal as an architectural icon since 1591.

On your first visit, don’t worry about what to see. Wander aimlessly among the canals and alleyways, cross any bridge and imbibe the unique flavour of this incomparable city. Passing Harry’s Bar, my thoughts turned to a Bellini cocktail (invented here in 1931), but I was firmly told the place was on a par with the gondolas. Shame, as the bar – with its catalogue of illustrious visitors from Ernest Hemingway to Orson Welles – is a delight. But leave the eye-popping prices to the American tourists.

NEIL: After I had vetoed gondolas and Harry’s Bar, Christine retaliated by banning museums. They could wait for next time, but Venice’s canals and streetscape are one huge open-air museum. The 900-year-old Piazza San Marco, the principle square, is vast but busy during high season. With no vehicles, it is one of the few great urban spaces in Europe dominated by human voices. Go early, avoid Sundays and step back into the 19th century with a cappuccino at Florian’s café; set in the arched 16th-century colonnades lining the piazza on three sides, its sumptuous gilt plasterwork and velvet seats remain unaltered since 1858.

The awesome cathedral, begun in the 9th century, gloriously reflects the city’s Byzantine heritage in mosaics, carvings and the famous gilded bronze horses. The adjacent Doge’s Palace is a glorious pink and white gothic confection befitting the status of the rulers of the powerful Venetian republic. Another “must” is the Campanile, the imposing bell tower opposite the cathedral. Galileo had to climb it to demonstrate his telescope to the Doge in 1609, but modern visitors take the lift. A 10-minute wait as the queue shuffled forward was amply repaid by the heart-stopping views.

After two days at the Cipriani we moved to the Luna Hotel Baglioni. Drawing up at their private jetty we were swept into the period grandeur of Venice’s oldest hotel, still family owned. Surrounded by antique furniture and paintings, including a table from Marie Antoinette’s Versailles, it was agreeably cool and tranquil despite being yards from the bustle of the Piazza San Marco.

Our silk-lined room with hand-blown Venetian chandelier overlooked the greenery and flowers of the Royal Gardens. We started the day in the stupendous Salone Marco Polo, the hotel’s largest and most majestic room, tucking into our breakfast under superb trompe l’oeil frescoes by pupils of Tiepolo.

See Venice and die, the saying goes. Well, hopefully not, but it is to die for. Like the Taj Mahal and Niagara Falls, it is one of the few tourist icons that exceed the advance billing. With careful preparation, you can forget the cost; a few pounds a week put aside over 25 years will ensure you can afford to do it in style. We are going back for our golden anniversary.

● GETTING THERE: Citalia (0871 664 0253/www.citalia.com) offers three nights’ B&B in a Lagoon View room  at Hotel Cipriani from £1,396pp (two sharing), including British Airways flights from Gatwick. The same package at the Luna Hotel Baglioni costs from £615pp, including flights from Gatwick. Return water taxi transfers from £101pp, bookable through Citalia.

Italian State Tourist Board: 020 7408 1254/www.enit.it.