However, despite warning of the dangers of deviating from his route, he decided to go ahead. Because of the ever-changing channels and shifting sands, he marks out the entire route before each walk with laurel twigs that he digs into the sand.We were half-hoping that he would call off our event because of the atrocious weather, which had depleted the numbers of sponsored walkers that day. He has been leading walks across the bay for more than four decades Cedric says he reads the bay like we would read a newspaper. But like most people, it was only when I read about the tragedy of the 21 Chinese cocklers, who were killed in February 2004 by the surging incoming tide that sweeps silently and swiftly across the bay, that I was dramatically reminded of the dangers.We placed our trust in Cedric – who of course took off his shoes on that bitter day in May.

My mother had been on a guided walk with Cedric on a glorious sunny day a few years ago, so I’d been warned about the risks. Morecambe Bay, and its dangerous 120-square-mile expanse, has always been part of local folklore. We were already so drenched that I decided it didn’t matter if we got any wetter. My pathetic umbrella had been rendered useless by the wind.As I negotiated a stretch of sand that felt like blancmange underfoot, I was in no doubt that crossing this bay was a serious undertaking. But our immediate task was to paddle through a small stream and tread warily across a patch of trembling sand that presaged the treacherous quicksands that we knew were capable of swallowing us up.
I threw caution to the wind and strode through the water in my trainers. “Some people like to take their shoes off here,” said Cedric We looked at each other in disbelief. It was cold, windy and pouring with rain, and we were at the very beginning of our charity walk across Morecambe Bay led by the distinguished Queen’s Guide, Cedric Robinson

We had just spent 20 minutes clambering over mud flats Ahead of us lay a vast expanse of grey sand.

The clouds were so low that we couldn’t even see the shore on the other side of the bay. Zaha Hadid opted for a calming Zen space of fluid white curved lines; Norman Foster went for the leather look; Ron Arad included a circular black bed. Lagrimas Negras is the haute cuisine restaurant, while the Skynight bar crowns the building.Hotel Puerta America, Avenidade America 41, Madrid (00 34 917 445 400; www.hotelpuertamerica ) Doubles start at €161 (£115), room only.. Inside, 12 architects and designers were given a free rein on 12 different floors, working on anything from corridors to bathrobes. Hotel Puerta America Madrid A rainbow of coloured awnings adorned with fragments of Paul Eluard’s poem “Freedom” makes the fa?e of Puerta America unmissable. The hotel is filled with art by Jorge Castillo, Francisco Amad and Antonio Clavet and also has an impressive collection of ship models.