Lodore Falls, so-called for its location right next to its namesake higgledy-piggledy waterfall, is a must-visit for those who appreciate hiking, wild swimming and luxurious, man-made pools in equal measure. It looks out over Derwentwater, a serene spot to make a splash and not to chilly either if you visit in late summer. The hotel's heated hydrotherapy pool is as magical on a blue-skies day as it is a rainy one, when puffs of steam float on the water's surface, adding to the craggy scenery's palpable melodrama.

City-centre hotels with open-air pools get gold stars in our books. What could be better after a long day in town than a refreshing dip before heading back out for dinner? The King Street Townhouse's pool is a slate-grey cave, carved into the hotel's seventh floor and looking out over the pointy spires and iconic clock tower of Manchester Town Hall. The pool forms part of the hotel's spa offering, along with a glowy steam room and an ambient "relaxation area", so leave your racing-stripes at home and order a ginger tea (or a spritz) instead.

The pool at this 18th-century farm turned millennial summer hideout is quite something. It's an exercise in bucolic perfection which spills out of a rickety-looking (though unmistakably zhuzhed-up) old boathouse and into the rolling, grassy surrounds of rural Oxfordshire. As any Soho House group veterans know, the emphasis here is on having a good time. Clad in timber, scored by golf buggy taxis and with more sporting activities than you can shake a racket at, it's about as close you can get to an American country club without leaving home turf.

Newquay isn't quite the hotspot it once was, but stylish hotels such as Watergate Bay, which is just a short scooch along the coast, offer exciting glimpses of what it could become. Self-styled epicureans should hunker down for this hotel's food offering alone; it has five restaurants (yes, five) but only 71 rooms, meaning you have your pick of local Cornish fare and ocean-view tables whatever the weather. As for the pool, this is the real deal - a long one for both lapping and lounging - cornered by a floor-to-ceiling glass partition which collapses onto the cliffside.

If Hambleton Hall was a person it'd likely be a glamorous grandma, the type to clutch her pearls and heat-brush curl her hair. It's a charming and eminently well-to-do hotel, albeit a little old-fashioned for our liking. Regardless, its pool is like a precious relic from the past. Cosseted away from the Victorian house by a red-brick rood screen interwoven with trailing flora, it's a timeless English beauty simply begging to be painted in loose puddles of watercolour.

A 20m-long garden swimming pool inlaid with chequerboard tiles. Would you expect anything less refined from Beaverbrook, Surrey's foremost country house hotel? This pool is like a Slim Aarons photo come to life, set among meticulously clipped lawns and lined by two faultless rows of snow-white loungers, punctuated by taut canvas parasols. Though the outdoor pool is a relatively recent addition to the 150-year-old mansion, it's just the sort of place you can imagine Beaverbrook's legendary former guests (Liz Taylor and Jean Cocteau, being two) flopping out on a balmy summer's day.

Okay, so this pool doesn't exactly fly under-the-radar. In fact, it was the very place where the infamous Profumo affair started, but you'd be hard pressed to find a better place to splash around this summer. Bucolic yet bougie, the tufts of lavander, singing birds and blooming garden that frame the pool are enough to tempt us outside the M25 for a day spent perfecting our butterfly stroke (read: dipping our toes in between tanning rotations).

This newbie is set to be London’s hottest hangout this summer. Designed in the seventies by Sir Frederick Gibberd, 180 House has just undergone a major refurb. On the 9th-floor you’ll find it's south-facing rooftop pool with its floor-to-ceiling windows that offer impressive 360-vistas over some of London’s biggest landmarks. After you’re done soaking in all the city’s visual splendour, head to the bar for a picante. Yikes. We've become a Soho House meme.