The Good is that the facilities in the rooms are hard to beat for luxury. The Bad is that many operate at the press of one of a worryingly large number of buttons, meaning that the more technically inept (ie, me) might not be able to open the curtains to their ocean view in the morning.

The Ugly lies in the sad fact that those who do not require an instruction manual might be rewarded not by a vision of the sea, but by the sight of Michael Winner in his swimming trunks.

Mercifully, not least for the long-suffering staff, Mr Winner is not really resident there. He comes for the Christmas/New Year period, a time when it is mandatory to book for at least a fortnight and when a “standard” bedroom will set you back at least £1,150 a night. The five-bedroomed villa, which comes with four staff, costs a cool £14,500 a night. At this time of year, what is theoretically a hotel turns into a de facto club because only a tiny number of people can afford it.

The one-upmanship on show is astonishing. It used to be considered quite swish to arrive by private yacht. The sleek thing to do now is to anchor the boat a few miles offshore and traverse the remaining distance by private mini-submarine. I kid you not.

Fortunately, there are 50 other weeks in the year. Despite its reputation as an A-list superhaunt, celeb appearances are distinctly seasonal. If you want to be in the backdrop of a Hello! shoot, then turn up in December/January (for the luvvies) or July-August (the short period when no professional football is played).

The normal guests look, well, pretty normal. More Brits than Americans, but the part of me that secretly hoped the place could be portrayed as a sort of Chav Central was, alas, destined to be disappointed.

For all the publicity that the hotel secures, Barbados is about an awful lot more than the Sandy Lane Empire. I stayed at two other establishments on the West Coast — The House and Treasure Beach — which have almost the same number of bedrooms and are about a kilometre apart on the same stretch of the beach, but otherwise could not be more different.

The House is hip. Beautiful rooms with lots of beautiful people. The most beautiful of the lot, though (not least in my wife’s opinion), are the “Ambassadors” — a combination of receptionist, waiter and concierge, whose role in life is to ensure that the guests are sufficiently pampered while going about the arduous business of doing nothing.

The crowd here was a little more American than British, and covered a wide age range, but boy did they have white teeth — I found it wise to wear sunglasses in the dark. A fabulous hotel, nevertheless, which although it does not have its own restaurant (a great bar, however) is situated next to the well-known Daphne’s.

Which is just as well since good food plays an enormous part in the West Coast holiday. There are restaurants of extraordinary quality along the coastline. The Cliff remains awesome. La Mer has become the voguish joint, and the lobster burger at the Blue Monkey is well worth the visit.

Portions, mercifully, are in that comforting middle size between the immorally vast (America, except California) and disturbingly thin (California). Service is unpretentious, but properly attentive.

The Treasure Beach hotel captures that spirit superbly. It appeals to a slightly older, almost uniformly British, collection of souls who come to Barbados to enjoy themselves rather than to look beautiful. The hotel’s Hemingway Suite is possibly the single most enchanting room on the island, with an astonishing balcony, discreet hot tub and supersized shower that is partly exposed to the elements (and sunshine).

This is not Hugh Grant and Jemima Khan territory — it’s more for a Hugh who retired after a distinguished banking career, and Jemima, the adventurous pensioner who likes to escape the British winter.

And, let’s face it, who would not. There are many who escape to engage in water sports, drive around the area seeking hidden coves or track down quaint churches. Personally, I wouldn’t be caught doing any of the above, not when there is reliable sunshine, a beckoning chair, and people who seem more than happy to ferry drinks on a regular basis.

NEED TO KNOW

Getting there: Tim Hames travelled flew to Barbados with British Airways (0870 8509850, www.ba.com) and ITC Classics (01244 355527, www.itcclassics.co.uk) which offers a week’s B&B at Sandy Lane from £2,495pp, at Treasure Beach from £965pp and at The House from £1,529pp, including flights and transfers.