Hazlitt's, Soho, London

Saturday, 17.20
Before today, Monsieur 2 and I have walked past this discreet terrace of Georgian houses on Soho’s fashionable Frith Street dozens of times and always assumed that the name ‘Hazlitt’s’, painted elegantly above the door, was that of a venerable law firm, or private members’ club. But a writer friend of ours has spilled the beans and let us in on the fact that behind the dark green door lies an extremely luxurious hotel, popular with authors, actors and other creative types. Her enthusiastic recommendation was all the persuading we needed and we’ve booked ourselves in for a night.

17.25
The reception area sets the tone for the rest of the hotel; grand, formal, but friendly. The concierge beams as he tells us that our room is his favourite. He walks us along a chandelier-lit corridor to the lift, pointing out the residents’ lounge complete with honesty bar on the way.

17.29
The thirty rooms at Hazlitt’s don’t have numbers, they’re named after people who have lived at or visited this address (William Hazlitt, the great 19th century essayist, died here in 1830 giving the hotel its name). Our room is the Duke of Monmouth; I say ‘room’, but as we enter and see a staircase to our left we realise that it is in fact a suite!

Checking out the bedroom first, we’re immediately impressed by the gorgeous decor - with tapestries and oil paintings it’s certainly a room fit for a Duke!

The immense canopied bed bears the royal crest, reflecting the Duke of Monmouth’s princely blood; in the bay window, half-concealed by heavy floor-to-ceiling velvet curtains, there’s an elegant antique writing desk. There are some unobtrusive mod-cons though; mirrored panels conceal a flat-screen TV, and the heavy plush window blinds are electric. It’s the perfect balance of old and new.

Most spectacular is the enormous bathtub occupying one side of the room, watched over by a life-size bronze eagle from whose beak the water flows. We’ve never seen anything like it!

17.40
We head upstairs. There’s a comfortable lounge area (complete with chess table!), a shower room - the toilet is concealed within an actual wooden throne - and an incredible in-room bar stocked with bottles of spirits, wines and, our new favourite amenity against which all others will be judged, a champagne fridge containing full-size bottles of fine fizz!

As if we could be any more excited by our opulent digs, we open up the French windows and step out onto...our very own private roof terrace. One flick of a switch retracts the glass ceiling and opens us up to the warm evening air. We grab a bottle of bubbly from the fridge, pop the cork and relax. This really is the life.

19.05
We’re starting to get peckish. The only thing Hazlitt’s lacks is its own restaurant but this being Soho, we’re absolutely spoiled for choice. On the strength of great word-of-mouth we head for hot new ramen bar Tonkotsu on neighbouring Dean Street, where we slurp delicious bowls of rich pork broth and noodles and wash down the best kara age - fried chicken - and gyoza we’ve had in a long while with craft beers.

20.08
It wouldn’t be a night in Soho without taking in a bit of the gay scene, and right opposite Hazlitt’s is cool bar Circa. We stop in for a couple of cocktails and are tempted to stay out, but knowing that the Duke of Monmouth suite is waiting for us across the road is enough to draw us back. We love it so much we want to make the most of it!

21.46
That sumptuous bathtub is easily big enough for two; we fill it deeply, splash in some of the gorgeous REN bath oil that’s included in the generous selection, and sink in for a soak...

23.12
Time for bed. The covers are beautifully soft, the mattress is just right...it’s not long before we’re sound asleep.

Sunday 09.30
There’s a knock at the door and a maid brings in our breakfast, chosen the night before. It’s a bright morning so we take the tray out to the roof terrace. There’s a bacon sarnie for me  - good bacon, but rather dry crunchy bread - and healthy fresh fruit and granola for Monsieur 2, along with some pastries.

Compared to the supreme quality of everything else about Hazlitt’s, breakfast seems a bit ordinary, but quite frankly where else could you say you ate breakfast on a roof terrace, in morning sunshine, watched over by a full-size marble stag?!

10.55
With some reluctance, we bid au revoir to the Duke of Monmouth; it really is a remarkable suite in a hotel full of character and charm. On the way down to reception we notice a writing desk and chair set out on a landing, as if waiting for William Hazlitt to come back one day. We certainly wouldn’t blame him, as we know we will.

N: Hazlitts
A: 6 Frith Street, Soho Square, London W1D 3JA
T: +442074341771
E: reservations@hazlitts.co.uk
W: hazlittshotel.com
Our rating: ****

www.deuxmessieurs.com

Dorset Square Hotel, Marylebone, London

If shopping were an Olympic sport, Monsieur 2 would be its Michael Phelps. An essential part of his quarterly assaults on London’s boutiques is having a good hotel as base camp, somewhere to muster his strength and return to for rest and refreshment. This time we’ve chosen Dorset Square Hotel for its proximity to the chic shops of Marylebone and Bond Street.

The unassuming entrance to Dorset Square Hotel

Saturday, 14.00
As we check in, we notice there’s a cricket theme going on - arty displays of vintage bats adorn the reception area and even our key fob is in the shape of a cricket ball.

Clocking our confused expressions the receptionist explains that Dorset Square was the original site of Mr Lord’s cricket ground. We don’t normally like themed places but with a connection like that, we can see why they’ve gone with it.

14.10
Sadly the cricket theme doesn’t extend to having hunky Freddie Flintoff on the staff, but hunky concierge Yesek (swiftly nicknamed ‘Yes Yes Yesek by saucy Monsieur 2) is a good substitute. He shows us up to our room, through corridors papered in a quirky, bold vegetable-print.

14.13
Our room, 104, is small but perfectly formed.

We like the crisp, fresh red white and blue decor and cricket ball handles on the wardrobe doors.

Knobs can say a lot about a place

We also like its decor, and the accessories it comes with, and make note of the seamstress's mannequin in the corner, speculating how we shall dress it up later.

Daylight from a tall sash window overlooking the square, double-glazed to keep out traffic noise, floods the room - we can tell this is going to be a real oasis of calm.

14.20 Sustenance is important before a shopping mission so we take a peek at the mini-bar - but when we see that a bottle of Coke is £3.75 and packet of crisps, albeit gourmet ones, a stonking £3.50, we decide to leave it at just that.

Never mind - Marylebone High Street, where we’re heading anyway, has some great little delis so we’ll grab something en route.

18.11
We. Are. Exhausted. We’ve shopped, and now we are ready to drop. To give our feet time to recover, Monsieur 2 stretches out on the bed while I collapse in one of the smart armchairs to watch Indiana Jones liberating the Temple of Doom on the state-of-the-art SMART TV.

Who can resist?! (That is rhetorical only)

20.00
Time for dinner in the hotel’s The Potting Shed restaurant. Situated in the basement, this was, as its name suggests, the house’s former potting shed, and its history is tastefully reflected in its garden greens decor with shelves of plant pots housed beneath a greenhouse roof.

We love little touches like this, in the Potting Shed

It’s all very bucolic and doesn’t feel like busy central London at all.

The menu is mostly solid British classics, with some Italian dishes thrown in. We start with chicken liver parfait for Monsieur 2 - a large quenelle of it with onion marmalade, which he enjoys - and San Daniele ham with mozzarella and Heritage tomatoes for me. It’s just the sort of tasty, simple dish I was fancying.

The Potting Shed bar and restaurant at Dorset Square Hotel

Our meaty main courses of Hereford cote de boeuf - served with crisp, salty frites - and lamb cutlets with mint jelly, use excellent produce and I especially like a side order of perfect little peas and carrots.

Puddings couldn’t be more British; the treacle tart with clotted cream and raspberries for me, and gooseberry fool for Monsieur 2, are both terrific and at £4.50, as reasonable as the rest of the menu. A bottle of Colchagua Merlot washes it all down a treat. Service is lovely, the perfect balance of efficient and friendly.

10.11
Fancying a post-dinner cocktail we adjourn to the guest Drawing Room with its well-stocked honesty bar.

I rustle us up a cocktail and we lounge on the expansive sofa, feeling very grand.

10.57
Fully intending to go out on the town - Soho’s walking distance! - we head back up to Room 104, but finding that the bed’s been turned down, a gorgeous fragrant pillow spray left for us along with a bottle of mineral water each, it’s just too tempting not to slip between the Frette sheets...

Sunday 08.26
Boy have we slept well - the bed was super-comfy and the room so calm. Time for a wake-up cuppa while we read the complimentary Sunday paper that’s been left outside our door. But hang on - there’s no tea and coffee supplied in the room, something we’ve not encountered before! Oh well. We debate ordering breakfast in bed, but decide to crack on with the day, throw on some clothes and head down to The Potting Shed.

08.40
The restaurant’s even prettier filled with morning sunlight than it was at dusk. Thought’s clearly gone into the menu as far as nutrition goes, with low GI options and egg-white omelettes on offer. But that's not what we're after - so we tuck in to an estimable full English, with plenty of the tea we’ve been craving, and a glass of freshly squeezed juice - watermelon, in my case, which makes a refreshing change.

09.36
The shower in our grey-marble tiled bathroom has a powerful massage setting which pummels out the last few knots left from yesterday’s retail marathon, and Miller Harris products leave us smelling like champions.

We’ve a while until we have to check out so we slip into our towelling-lined waffle bathrobes, sprawl on the bed and try to decide what we’re going to wear first from yesterday’s spoils.

11.00
Check-out time, and as we step out into Dorset Square, waved warmly on our way by Yes Yes Yesek, we can almost hear the sound of leather on willow where cricketers once played. We might not be maidens, but Dorset Square Hotel’s welcome and service have certainly bowled us over.

N: Dorset Square Hotel
A: 39-40 Dorset Square, Marylebone, London NW1 6QN
T: +44 207 7723 7874
E: dorset@firmdale.com
W: firmdalehotels.com/london/dorset-square-hotel

Our rating:****

The Fox & Anchor, Smithfields, London

Wednesday, 17.50
Although it might seem like our life is all parties, even we have to work sometimes. Finding ourselves with meetings in The City on the same day, Monsieur 2 asked his P.A. - we couldn’t live without her - to find us a hotel near the Square Mile with a bit of character. She’s booked us into The Fox & Anchor, a ‘pub with rooms’ opposite Smithfield Market.

As we arrive, first impressions aren’t particularly welcoming - it’s a pub alright, and on this warm evening suited City drinkers are spilling onto the pavement outside. There’s a door to one side marked ‘Hotel’ but finding it locked, we have to elbow our way through the drinkers to the bar to enquire where to check in. The answer is: right there, so while the guy next to us orders two pints of lager and a packet of crisps, we’re filling out the registration card. It feels rather awkward.

18.00
As we’re taken upstairs, impressions don’t improve much; the staircase is dark and dingy and the carpet's fraying, not at all in keeping with the pub itself which from what we saw looked well-maintained. It’s not the end of the world but little things do matter!

18.05
We’re shown into our room, the Charterhouse. The bed looks large and comfy - always a plus - and we clock a Bose sound system, but otherwise it’s pretty basic. The furniture’s standard hotel stuff - not in keeping with the old world feel of the leaded windows, which on closer inspection are dirty - and the paint on the door is chipped. It’s fine, but basic, and doesn’t feel as luxurious as the very slick website had led us to expect. The bathroom’s better though, with an attractive roll-top tub and a drench shower, two of our favourite things. There's also a good selection of generous-sized products from Miller Harris, which we love.

18.15
We decide a cup of tea’s in order and search high and low for the tea tray; eventually we find it - bizarrely hidden away in the bottom of the wardrobe.

At least once tea’s made there’s a nice chaise longue at the end of the bed for us to sit and sip it on. We love a chaise longue.

19.12
Supper time, so we go down to the pub and take a table in a charming, wood-panelled back room. The menu is robustly British with some modern touches; Monsieur 2 sums it up as ‘pub grub deluxe’ and he’s spot on.

We both go for fish starters, potted smoked mackerel for me, terrine of Scottish smoked salmon for him. He’s sure it’s the same Gary Rhodes recipe that’s his staple dinner party starter, and from the looks of it he’s right - no bad thing, as it’s delicious, as is my mackerel.
Monsieur 2’s salad from the daily specials - chicken and peppers with mixed leaves - is fine but nothing, well, special. I do better with mutton t-bones and spring vegetable broth; the meat has fantastic depth of flavour, and the replacement broth the chef kindly whips up when I spot the dreaded celery in the first version is absolutely wonderful. For puds, we enjoy some British cheeses and ice cream-filled profiteroles. A bottle of Pinot Grigio rosé from the pub’s owner’s own English vineyard is a lovely unusual drop.

21.20
Food finished, we should probably head for bed, but can’t resist popping round the corner for a nightcap at The Zetter Townhouse...

23.15
Ooops, naughty Messieurs; we went for one and stayed for a couple. Now it’s time for bed; and as we're in Smithfields, we fall asleep to the rhythmic hum of the lorries delivering their meaty wares to Smithfields market across the road.

Thursday 07.15
After a rain shower over our plush bath, a spot of breakfast is in order before we head off. The menu’s very ‘blokey’, as are the customers at this time of day - City boys (and indeed, a few girls) having power meetings, looking like teams from The Apprentice planning a challenge. We feel a bit out of place in our morning casuals but our waitress is super-friendly (as too was our waitress at dinner last night) and quickly brings the coffee we need to get started.

We decide against the awesome-sounding City Boy breakfast - basically all the meat you can eat, with a pint of stout on the side - and instead devour steak and eggs with good crispy hash browns.

08.37
As we check out - if you can call handing a key back across the bar ‘checking out’ - and leave The Fox & Anchor, our lasting impression is of a place with good intentions, and great food, but which doesn’t quite gel as a whole. It is a pub with rooms, and a perfectly nice one, but it could up its ante by focusing on the finer details, and even unlocking the door marked 'Hotel' for a separate and more refined entrance for their guests.

N: Fox and Anchor
A: 115 Charterhouse Street, Smithfield, London EC1M 6AA
W: www.foxandanchor.com
T: 020 7250 1300 - or to book: 0121 616 3614
E: bookingscentral@hotelduvin.com
Our rating: ***

The Zetter Townhouse, Clerkenwell, London

Unassuming and oh so chic 

Sunday 6pm
The taxi drops us at the discreet pale blue door of a grand double-fronted Georgian townhouse on quiet, cobbled St John’s Square in Clerkenwell.

From outside, nothing gives away that this is a hotel, but from the name elegantly engraved on the door we know we’re in the right place.

Through sash windows we see a candle-lit room packed with people talking animatedly; it looks like it could be a particularly fabulous private party. Fortunately, we’re invited!

Eccentric and holding no punches

6.03pm
The eccentrically-decorated room is unlike any hotel lobby we’ve ever seen.

Crammed with bric-a-brac, taxidermy and antiques, this is a very cool bar that doubles as a reception for the hotel above.

We’re greeted by the very chic duty manager and taken up in the horsehair-lined lift - we said the decor was eccentric - to the first floor.


6.10pm
Our room is the stunning Townhouse Apartment, and oh boy it’s a beauty.

At one end, an enormous bed is swathed in luxurious quilts and topped with masses of pillows while at the other there’s a lounge area with beautiful period furniture.

Our very own Lounge Area

There’s also a selection of our favourite magazines - it’s like they knew we were coming!

More of the same please!

In the middle of the room there’s a writing desk, and on that a handwritten welcome note and a plate of fresh fruit - just the kind of thoughtful personal touches we love. We kick our shoes off, climb onto our vast bed and feed each other strawberries for a while...

Pleasures come with the personal touch

6.30pm
Although we’re booked in for cocktails downstairs later, we decide to see what the mini-bar has to offer and it’s certainly stocked for enjoyment! As well as champagne, wine and spirits - at sensible prices  - there are classic cocktails mixed by the bar team and sealed in beautiful flasks. We call for a cocktail tray and within minutes we’ve got a shaker, glasses and ice and are ready to go. All that’s left to do is stir and serve.

My Negroni and Monsieur 2’s Martini are top-notch, and a table by one of the tall windows overlooking the square below is the perfect place to enjoy them.

Atmospheric and full of character

7.05pm
We head down to the bar and settle into the deep comfy couch that’s been reserved for us. We’re given the list of 12 house cocktails and informed that the bar staff - trained by world-renowned mixologist Tony Conigliaro no less - can rustle us up anything else we might fancy. We work our way through about half of the list, both especially loving a syrupy, rum-based Master At Arms.

7.52pm
Time for food. Everything on the menu, devised by legendary chef Bruno Loubet, sounds fantastic so we order a selection. Little merguez with chick peas, lemon-juice drenched griddled halloumi and earthy roasted vegetable dip with thin slices of toasted baguette prove perfect for soaking up the potent potions we’re drinking.

Beautiful bathroom, with plenty of REN treats

9.12pm
Back upstairs we uncork a bottle of wine and run ourselves a deep bubbly bath using the gorgeous REN products provided. The tap’s at the side, so no fighting over who gets which end either!

10.07pm
Finally freeing ourselves from the comfort of the tub, we wrap ourselves in fluffy robes and flop on the bed. Monsieur 2 spots that there’s an in-house DVD library at our disposal but let’s just say we decide to make our own entertainment instead...


Monday 7.40am
We’ve slept so well and so long that we’re up with the lark despite not having to be anywhere. I decide to fix us some coffee and not only do we have a Nespresso machine in the room, there’s also a milk frother for making perfect cappuccinos! Such a lovely start to the day.

The Zetter Hotel

8.20am
Expecting breakfast to be served in the lounge, we find that we actually have to go across to the main Zetter Hotel for it. It’s no great hardship but it feels a little odd to be leaving ‘our’ Townhouse to eat! The decor isn't as homely and staff aren’t quite as friendly here either, but our full English breakfasts are still enjoyable. Breakfast devoured, we grab the day’s newspapers and head back to our room for a last couple of hours before check-out.




11.09am
A cheeky cappuccino, a reviving drench shower and a last roll on that sumptuous bed and we’re - reluctantly - out the door. In our fantasy alternative existence - the one where we win the EuroMillions on a quintuple rollover week - we’d live in the country and maintain a grand London townhouse for entertaining when in the capital. Until that day comes, we’re very happy to make do with The Zetter Townhouse.

N: The Zetter Townhouse
T: 020 7324 4567
A: 49-50 St John's Square, London EC1V 4JJ
W: thezettertownhouse.com
Our rating: 4.5 out of 5

The Hoxton Urban Lodge, Hoxton, East London

Shoreditch, London
Monsieur and I love the nightlife of London’s edgy East End but not the epic journey home, so just for once we’ve decided to treat ourselves to a night in a hotel. The Hoxton on Great Eastern Street is a great location, runs regular £1 sales on rooms, and bills itself as an ‘Urban Lodge’ - a home away from home. Perfect, we thought, let's give it a try.

Friday, 6.35
Entering from the street, The Hoxton feels more like a cool club than a hotel - the lobby is teeming with people, mostly trendy Shoreditch types but quite a few City suits too. At the Reception desk we’re greeted by a friendly jeans-clad girl who runs through what’s included in our (very reasonable, pre-paid online) room rate: WiFi, an hour’s UK landline calls and a light Pret breakfast. Amazing!

6.42

Oh how we needed that bed

The leather-lined lift sets the tone for the rest of the hotel - sexy, dark, a little louche. As we get out on the fifth floor and make our way along the moodily-lit corridor it feels like we’re in a David Lynch movie. Our room is large, light and plush without being luxurious, feeling more like a private apartment than a hotel.

Cute notes around our room - we don't mind if we do!

We’re certainly made to feel at home by the quirky signs around the room; they’re more like the kind of helpful Post-Its a friend would leave you than the usual stiff instructions we see in hotels.


Another homely touch is the free mineral water and fresh milk in the fridge to which we’re cheerfully encouraged to ‘Just help yourself’. We like.

7.00
The view out over the City is superb but we don’t have too long to enjoy it - we’re booked in for dinner at Hoxton Grill downstairs. The restaurant is located off the lobby of The Hoxton but is operated by Soho House Group, and it shows in both the decor (which reminds us of the dining room at Soho House Berlin) and the super-polished but informal service. The menu’s great, a selection of modern American diner favourites with some brasserie classics.

Loved the Hoxton Grill, and our flirt with the waiter

Monsieur 2 keeps it simple with tomato soup followed by steak and chips, both excellent - the soup flecked with shreds of fresh basil, the steak a 10oz rump cooked exactly medium-rare just how he likes it. I try salt beef hash - thick slices of good beef on a fat potato cake, topped with a poached egg - and tiger prawn and chorizo gumbo. I love the glossy, spicy sauce and huge shell-on prawns, but I’m not convinced that the slices of thin sausage aren’t frankfurter rather than chorizo. We’re glad we let our gorgeous, flirty waiter talk us into dessert; the raspberry ripple cheesecake and ultra-decadent banana fudge sundae are fantastic.

9.08
Stuffed and a little drowsy we decide to revive with a shower back in our room. The sleek slate-tiled bathroom has a gorgeous rainfall shower, just what we need to bring us back to life before heading out into the night...

9.40
The gay scene in this part of London is small but perfectly formed and as edgily unconventional as the area’s fashionable population. We start off at the George & Dragon on Hackney Road, a bric-a-brac stuffed pub playing great music, then move on to the Nelson’s Head up the road. Finally we head for The Joiners Arms, the cool, grimy bar-club. We love the place and only stagger out when the lights go up.

3.16 (ahem)

Quirky touches around our room made us feel right at home

Staying at The Hox was definitely a good idea - we’re falling into bed fifteen minutes after leaving The Joiners not the usual hour-plus. Looks like we’re not the only ones to have sampled the area’s nocturnal delights - many doors on our corridor are displaying the fun ‘Go Away!’ swing-tags and there’s some serious moaning-and-groaning coming from a few doors down...



Saturday, 10.20

Our Breakfast Bags were very welcome first thing.

Thank God we only have to reach out the door to their dedicated hook for our breakfast bags. Granola, juice and a banana, plus fresh coffee from the in-room selection, take the edge off our hangovers.

11.17
After a long shower, we’re feeling human again and decide to brave the journey home. Checking out, we realise it’s only the second time we’ve needed to interact with The Hoxton’s staff as guests are left so completely to their own devices. It’s in keeping with the home-from-home ethos but maybe feels a little impersonal.

11.23
As we leave, the lobby’s just as buzzing as when we arrived; The Hoxton rocks right around the clock. We’ll certainly consider it for our next night out up East and definitely be back for more fab food and flirting with the staff at Hoxton Grill.

N: The Hoxton
T: 020 75501000
A: 81 Great Eastern Street, London, EC2A 3HU
W: hoxtonhotels.com
Our rating:

Join us on Twitter: @deuxmessieurs
Learn more about The Hoxton's £1 sales at hoxtonhotels.com

B+B Belgravia, London

Thoroughly Modern Boutique Belgravia

Saturday 2.25pm
Monsieur 2 was decidedly grouchy by the time our train pulled into Victoria station. It was just under an hour from Brighton, but sitting opposite a group of teenage thugs building towers out of empty beer cans was more than his delicate constitution could negotiate.

We bumped our suitcases on wheels along the uneven pavements from the station and up one of the stucco-laden but rather soulless sidestreets, like rows of terraced cupcakes wistfully wishing for an afternoon tea. I came over all Victorian and thought of crinolines, hansom cabs and liveried footmen scurrying behind me with my cases; Monsieur 2 dropped his mobile phone and watched the batteries roll into the gutter, swearing effusively and, I think, rather unnecessarily.

By the time we reached the B+B Belgravia, I was questioning my choice in men while he questioned his choice of mobile phone providers. The hotel sign was so discreet as to be missable, but I took a deep breath and depressed the buzzer, concerned that one false move from inside could result in hysteria at best and homicide at worst.

But we were pleasantly surprised by this B+B which throws off the shackles of swirly carpets, china dogs on mantlepieces and quaint watercolours of yesteryear England. There is no dodgy plumbing or flowery bedlinen here: this is boutique Britain: calm, friendly, relaxed, airy and light. The 24-hour lounge has free WiFi and an industrial-size espresso machine for trysts at 2am. Not surprising that it's booked up months in advance.

So Sex and the City

We crashed in our huge room - all spotlights, white sheets and designer toiletries. I fully expected to bump into Mr Big from Sex and the City in the bathroom, although Monsier 2 didn't see the funny side. I catapulted myself at the enormous bed and ended up face-down in high-thread-count count while he logged onto the internet and tried to find the nearest Hugo Boss store. He's funny that way.

3.43pm
After a power-nap, food beckoned, and we ventured out - and discovered this was the road that once played home to a clutch of campery in the form of Edith Evans, Noel Coward and Ian Fleming - and still hosts Joan Collins and Sarah Brightman! There were a few spruced up traditional pubs on street corners but we stretched our legs and in ten minutes were standing on Sloane Square, and found a little Italian place a few steps along the King's Road. Prawns friend in butter and garlic; a good Montrachet and my man. Perfection.

Back in the hotel room, Monsieur 2 had slipped into his cotton striped pyjamas and looked all the world like some '30s throwback, magically making a wee box of Patchi chocolates appear from behind his back. Very romantic. Slept like a babe.

The Perfect Breakfast Affair

11.34am
Breakfast was very pleasant, if not slightly surreal. I adore B+B breakfasts - a clutch of people from all over brought together for half an hour, all slightly embarassed and sizing each other up. It felt like supping in a branch of the Conran Shop, very sleek and shiny, lots of high stools and trendy mismatched crockery. Muesli, orange juice, yoghurt... oh, go on, bring on the full English!

To work off the excesses we borrowed a couple of pushbikes from the B+B and gingerly made our way through the streets. I hadn't riden for years, but as they say, it was just like riding a bike, and we soon picked up speed. Monsieur 2 was a little reckless and cut in front of taxi drivers on principle; after about a minute and a half, I think there was an APB out on us. On home turf at last! Harrods, Harvey Nics and lovely, lovely Sloane Street. Gucci me, Prada me! Now, goddam you!

The tricky bit was, of course, cycling back with five large bags apiece. Mine got totally mangled in the spokes, and I needed to pull over next to a dry cleaners and sort myself out - then wheel the thing back to the B+B along the pavement. Wanted to throw the bike into the gutter and set fire to it.
B+B Belgravia
64-66 Ebury Street
Belgravia
London SW1W 9QD
T: 020 7259 8570
E: info@bb-belgravia
W: bb-belgravia.com

Our rating: ****