Albert Roux oversaw the smoked salmon blinis but modestly stayed in the background of the group picture. The white horses that drew the fairy-tale white carriage got scared by the dozens of pink balloons that were released - and a nice blonde lass with plaits wandered through and got a lot of young folk outside most terribly excited. It really was all go.
That's the cake in front of her in the right-hand picture. I didn't stay long enough to have a bite but if it was anything like the pumpkin quiche or the mini-benedicts with black truffle, it would have been worth the wait. There again, I'd gotten into the banana daiquiris in the Artesia bar so was approving of just about everything that came my way.
Grand Hotels need to stay grand. Just lately a lot of them (no names mentioned) are forgetting this and sacrificing beauty and elegance for a trendy designer statement. The Langham never forgets that we need glamour; we need that moment of instant transformation as we step from the grimy, noisy, scratchy city outside, through the revolving doors into elegance, opulence and romance. Yesterday, the Langham's lobby was decorated with huge vases of pink hydrangeas and fragrant roses. Branches of blossom arched over the entrance to the restaurant. So we got romance and glamour without the stuffiness.
Charles Dickens used to stay here, they tell me - for £14/6 a night including a meal. I'm not sure he'd get more than one banana daiquiri for that sum these days but I think he'd approve of the way the old place has endured and flourished.
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