Claridges

Today was my mother’s birthday and to celebrate my sister and I took her for afternoon tea at Claridges. It was my first time to Claridges and entering the foyer was like entering a different world. A beautiful, decadent , deco world. Where the walls are covered with sunburst mirrors and the perfectly , polished , black and white marble floor are so luminescent that you can actually see you own reflection .Staff whizz around and tend to each guest’s every need. I decided within 10 minutes that I wanted to move in, take up permanent residence. I imagine the staff and I would would get on like cheese and toast. Tis a beautiful dream and one that I will revisit again and agin.

In between daydreaming and sipping Earl Grey Tea, I wolfed down sandwiches and scones . The scones were served warm ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh devine. Every second was bliss. It made me realise that drinking tea is a fine art that I don’t partake in . It is not that I don’t usually drink tea, I do.. It is just that the cups of tea I make at home go like this... boil kettle once twice maybe 3 times over the course of 45mins , finally get time to make a brew, pour hot water onto to T bag , look up and see that number one son has walked in our dog’s poo and is spreading it , much like Nutella all round the house. I forget tea , to berrate son and then begin to deep clean house. Go back to cold cuppa, take a sip and ditch it, muttering “I never get to drink my tea.” I repeat this ritual several times everyday. Therefore being served tea and being able to sit and drink it at its optimum temperature was a REAL treat.

Like tourists little sis and I brought our cameras. In each picture my sis looked sallow ,slightly jaundiced, as if she needed a new liver ‘ll give you half of mine” I suggested. Her jaundice made my ruddy, rosacea cheeks look even worse. My skin is crap, it’s official. I used to have soft, even toned , perfect skin. Since my late 20s my skin has gone down hill , to the point that now in photos I look like a alcoholic, that has spent a summer drinking in Brockwell park. My nasty complexion is probably not confined to photos but if I admit that ,then I don’t think I would ever leave the house... I guess you could say I am in D E N I A L.

Mummy dearest loved the whole experience, she is after all the queen of cakes and would happily skip breakfast, lunch and dinner for a whole Victoria sponge. We three agreed to go again next year , mum agreed in a perfectly optimistic Irish way “but for the grace of god, if we don’t die first.”