Delight and Decadence at The Draycott
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When you’ve travelled the world and you’re bored with textbook five-star hotels, you come to the Draycott: a luxurious but unpretentious bolt-hole where everyone knows your name and the biscuits are made by the general manager’s wife.
Within fifteen seconds of walking in, the day manager Dino made me feel this was as much mine as his. He also didn’t raise an eyebrow when I introduced my companion, the Shamed Obsolete Banker (SOB), but treated him as if he were a respectable member of society. It was nearly four, which meant time for tea and biscuits in the delightful drawing room. There is also a glass of champagne at six to start your evening in style. After that there is an honour bar.
"What is honour?" asked the SOB. I didn’t bother explaining.
There are 35 rooms and suites individually decorated in eclectic country-house style. Each is named after a theatrical figure: ours was Rattigan. Even better, my name was handwritten on a nameplate on the door underneath his. I felt important. The SOB was put out.
"What about me?"
"We don’t want people to find you do we? Remember we’re playing hidey."
As well as the huge bed, our Deluxe Double had ample room for a large squashy sofa and armchair by the fireplace. The curious prints of animals and flowers on the walls and amusing ornaments on the mantelpiece made us feel like guests of some avuncular aristo. He probably wouldn’t have provided the technology, though: all rooms have Wi-Fi, DVD and CD players (and family rooms have Playstations for the kids).
There was also a dressing table, as well as a desk for SOB to sit at and yell, "Sell!" occasionally into his phone. I played along. When it got too much I dragged him off to the nearby Mandarin Oriental in Knightsbridge for cocktails and then to one of the area’s many Russian playgrounds for dinner. There is something indulgent about being in your own city and not having to go home. Why endure crowded motorways for a night in the country when you can cocoon yourself here?
We returned late and fell into the arms of Morpheus between crisp sea-island cotton sheets, until SOB woke up moaning about a hangover. I pushed him under the huge showerhead until a large china pot of hot tea arrived exactly when room service said it would.
As we made our way down to breakfast, Dino asked as if we’d slept 'enough'. Can you sleep enough in a place like this? We’d been wrapped up and tucked away, and now we had to leave it behind. Dino was kind enough to pretend the SOB’s pockets full of toiletries and biscuits were an entirely normal occurrence. Pure class.
Go now. Unlike the SOB, you’re worth it.
In case that's not enough, there's an offer:
From 28th March until 19th May 2009, The Draycott Hotel is offering the Easter Family package, which includes a family ticket to the Wallace and Gromit exhibition at the Science Museum, plus Easter Egg, afternoon tea, champagne at 6pm and hot chocolate before bed. Deluxe doubles cost £150 +15% tax per person per night based on two sharing. Suites are available for a supplement of £50 per person per night. For reservations, please call 020 7730 6466 or visit www.draycotthotel.com.
"What is honour?" asked the SOB. I didn’t bother explaining.
There are 35 rooms and suites individually decorated in eclectic country-house style. Each is named after a theatrical figure: ours was Rattigan. Even better, my name was handwritten on a nameplate on the door underneath his. I felt important. The SOB was put out.
"What about me?"
"We don’t want people to find you do we? Remember we’re playing hidey."
As well as the huge bed, our Deluxe Double had ample room for a large squashy sofa and armchair by the fireplace. The curious prints of animals and flowers on the walls and amusing ornaments on the mantelpiece made us feel like guests of some avuncular aristo. He probably wouldn’t have provided the technology, though: all rooms have Wi-Fi, DVD and CD players (and family rooms have Playstations for the kids).
There was also a dressing table, as well as a desk for SOB to sit at and yell, "Sell!" occasionally into his phone. I played along. When it got too much I dragged him off to the nearby Mandarin Oriental in Knightsbridge for cocktails and then to one of the area’s many Russian playgrounds for dinner. There is something indulgent about being in your own city and not having to go home. Why endure crowded motorways for a night in the country when you can cocoon yourself here?
We returned late and fell into the arms of Morpheus between crisp sea-island cotton sheets, until SOB woke up moaning about a hangover. I pushed him under the huge showerhead until a large china pot of hot tea arrived exactly when room service said it would.
As we made our way down to breakfast, Dino asked as if we’d slept 'enough'. Can you sleep enough in a place like this? We’d been wrapped up and tucked away, and now we had to leave it behind. Dino was kind enough to pretend the SOB’s pockets full of toiletries and biscuits were an entirely normal occurrence. Pure class.
Go now. Unlike the SOB, you’re worth it.
In case that's not enough, there's an offer:
From 28th March until 19th May 2009, The Draycott Hotel is offering the Easter Family package, which includes a family ticket to the Wallace and Gromit exhibition at the Science Museum, plus Easter Egg, afternoon tea, champagne at 6pm and hot chocolate before bed. Deluxe doubles cost £150 +15% tax per person per night based on two sharing. Suites are available for a supplement of £50 per person per night. For reservations, please call 020 7730 6466 or visit www.draycotthotel.com.
Here Is The Writer : Ms Robinson
Ms Robinson was once a copywriter who wrote award winning ads and had eight hour lunches. Weary of the sex, glamour and lavish parties, she switched to corporate communications where she held the hands of executives and banned them from writing this execrable sentence: "In this ever changing world, the only constant is change itself." These days she writes for an increasing variety of people and has ghostwritten several books but if she told you who for, she'd have to kill you. Click here to read her blog, Woman of Experience.
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