Q&A With Frances Geoghegan On Sending Jeremy Clarkson To Palazzo Fiuggi

That’s interesting — you emphasise the food. How did you ensure that the meals would pass his muster?

The food is central. Palazzo Fiuggi works with the three‑Michelin-star chef Heinz Beck to deliver a “Food Line” concept: each dish is constructed to be nutritionally optimized (balanced macros, micro‑nutrients) yet attractive, refined, warming and filling.

When you’re dealing with someone who hates deprivation, the last thing you want is limp salads or meals that leave you wanting more. Many wellness retreats make the mistake of confusing deprivation with detox; they think if you feed people air and greens, they’ll feel “cleansed.” In reality, they feel punished, but at Palazzo Fiuggi the strategy is let food be medicine, not punishment. The locally sourced, organic ingredients, (many from the palace’s own gardens), also support that — freshness, depth of flavour, no industrial blandness.

One can imagine Clarkson expecting a bootcamp full of sun salutations and “find your chi” rhetoric. How did you manage the wellness side without triggering that?

Exactly — that was the trap to avoid. Palazzo Fiuggi is medically grounded, not spiritually intrusive with coercive guruism. Nothing is forced on you. Yes, they have yoga and sound baths — but they’re optional; you choose what you want. What’s core to the experience is medical-grade diagnostics, personalised plans and a team of brilliant, understated professionals.

We made sure he trained with Luca — a calm, mature, non-preachy coach who lets the results do the talking. No one shouted “feel the burn.” No one corrected his posture mid-squat. It was subtle, adult, effective. And let’s not forget: the gym is in the old ballroom. You’re lifting weights beneath a chandelier, not under a motivational quote painted on the wall. There’s no wellness theatre here — just real results.

Did you have any worries that he might just hate it all?

Of course. When you send someone with a known aversion to wellness into the heart of it, you’re taking a risk. But the strategy was to not sell it as a wellness retreat. We called it what it is: a health reset in a palace. You’ll eat exceptional food. You’ll have access to cutting-edge therapies. You’ll sleep well. You won’t be pestered. I made sure small concessions were built in: you can skip things, you can rest, you won’t be browbeaten.

I also knew that if we could win him over with the food and the setting, the rest would fall into place. He didn’t need to be converted. He just needed to not be annoyed — and perhaps be pleasantly surprised.

And did it work? 

Surprisingly, yes. He wrote about it for The Times, and the reaction — from his side — was remarkably positive: he admitted he had expected something akin to Alcatraz, but found instead a place that delivered without fuss or faux-spirituality. He particularly praised the food, the space and the absence of wellness gimmicks.

So what’s your secret to satisfying someone so allergic to wellness tropes?

It’s simple: no fluff, no fuss and no forcing. We meet people where they are. Not everyone wants to chant. Some people just want to feel good again — to sleep better, move more, eat well and reclaim energy. You don’t have to be a crystal-collecting yogi to deserve that.

At Healing Holidays, our role is to strip away the jargon and match people to places that respect their personality. Palazzo Fiuggi respects personality — even if that personality is slightly grumpy and very famous.