Hedgie Gets Playful at the Met
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The Metropolitan Hotel found its place in hotel folklore when Boris Becker wandered into a broom cupboard and fathered a child. Unfortunately for him it wasn’t a broom, or it would have saved him a lot of money.
By that point the hotel had already acquired a reputation for being a popular celebrity hangout: celebrated eatery Nobu is on the premises, while the Met Bar is strictly members only, presumably to ensure that ordinary people are spared the discovery that celebrities are just like you and me.
When I opened the door to our room, the Hedgie was already there. He was sprawled on the bed, leafing through a pack of cards.
“They’ve all got pictures on them,” he said. “How do we play?”
“They’re Kama Sutra cards,” I pointed out. “Drink the Champagne and I’ll show you the game.”
By the time I’d emerged from my shower, Hedgie had guzzled far too much bubbly and was trying to unlock the door to the balcony with little success.
“I called the housekeeper,” he slurred. “But they said they need someone more responsible to sign to say it is safe to open the door.” Vanquished, he sat morosely on the floor until I reminded him we had a game to play.
We were in one of the hotel’s larger Metropolitan rooms. Outside was a splendid view of London’s parks and rooftops, and with the sun going down it was breathtaking. The room was furnished with an enormous, lush, cream covered bed, which mouthed 'comfort' as well as 'delicious filthy sex'. There was a long curved desk and sofa, both featuring some seriously fine woodwork and importantly, lighting you could control and vary. And that to me is what a hotel room should be. Not fussy bits and pieces, but the right things, done well.
The staff were brilliant from the word go and made us feel that nothing was too much trouble, even offering to send a porter for my reading glasses which I’d forgotten.
The day before I’d been treated to the hotel's Afternoon De-Light. It’s afternoon tea without the high carb hangover. The super fluffy scones were made of potato flour, while the muffins were made with olive oil instead of butter and were no less delicious. There were pretty cupcakes with lashings of low-fat cream cheese icing, which provided sweet naughtiness without the cloying mouthful of sugar you get from normal icing.
Sandwiches came in a glass and had more than a little Heston Blumenthal-style alchemy about them: watercress foam with slivers of roast beef and tomato with bread foam. And then there was the Kaffir Lime Macaroon. Sublime, delicious and light, it waltzed right into my mouth and then invited the other macaroon in as well.
But enough clean living. We had Champagne and an erotic card game going (if you take advantage of the hotel’s special Seduction Package, you get a whole goody box of things to play with). I didn’t bother with the reading glasses, but who needs to read when you’re being filthy anyway?
At about 11pm we wandered down the bar, where we were both hoping for serious people watching. The bar has all the ingredients for a totally louche evening, but I wonder if they’re missing a trick not allowing members of the public in. Given that it’s mostly men who travel, it would make sense for them to have some amusement. Pickup or no pickup, when you’ve had a long day of business, you want some laughter, preferably with sexual frisson included. On that note, there was more reading to be done upstairs, so we downed our cocktails and headed back up to lay our remaining cards on the table.
We slept well until our breakfast arrived: I’d ordered the healthy option for Hedgie, who needs to watch his weight, while I had the most scrumptious baked doughnut - almost like a brioche - filled with warm custard.
And then we had to go and I really didn’t want to. But you can stay there, and if you’re smart you’ll take advantage of one of the hotel’s packages, which are excellent, and all geared around particular interests. If seduction isn’t your thing (though I can't think why it wouldn't be) you can shop, eating or whatever: they’ll sort it all out for you.
The Metropolitan currently has some great special offers. Click here for more.
When I opened the door to our room, the Hedgie was already there. He was sprawled on the bed, leafing through a pack of cards.
“They’ve all got pictures on them,” he said. “How do we play?”
“They’re Kama Sutra cards,” I pointed out. “Drink the Champagne and I’ll show you the game.”
By the time I’d emerged from my shower, Hedgie had guzzled far too much bubbly and was trying to unlock the door to the balcony with little success.
“I called the housekeeper,” he slurred. “But they said they need someone more responsible to sign to say it is safe to open the door.” Vanquished, he sat morosely on the floor until I reminded him we had a game to play.
We were in one of the hotel’s larger Metropolitan rooms. Outside was a splendid view of London’s parks and rooftops, and with the sun going down it was breathtaking. The room was furnished with an enormous, lush, cream covered bed, which mouthed 'comfort' as well as 'delicious filthy sex'. There was a long curved desk and sofa, both featuring some seriously fine woodwork and importantly, lighting you could control and vary. And that to me is what a hotel room should be. Not fussy bits and pieces, but the right things, done well.
The staff were brilliant from the word go and made us feel that nothing was too much trouble, even offering to send a porter for my reading glasses which I’d forgotten.
The day before I’d been treated to the hotel's Afternoon De-Light. It’s afternoon tea without the high carb hangover. The super fluffy scones were made of potato flour, while the muffins were made with olive oil instead of butter and were no less delicious. There were pretty cupcakes with lashings of low-fat cream cheese icing, which provided sweet naughtiness without the cloying mouthful of sugar you get from normal icing.
Sandwiches came in a glass and had more than a little Heston Blumenthal-style alchemy about them: watercress foam with slivers of roast beef and tomato with bread foam. And then there was the Kaffir Lime Macaroon. Sublime, delicious and light, it waltzed right into my mouth and then invited the other macaroon in as well.
But enough clean living. We had Champagne and an erotic card game going (if you take advantage of the hotel’s special Seduction Package, you get a whole goody box of things to play with). I didn’t bother with the reading glasses, but who needs to read when you’re being filthy anyway?
At about 11pm we wandered down the bar, where we were both hoping for serious people watching. The bar has all the ingredients for a totally louche evening, but I wonder if they’re missing a trick not allowing members of the public in. Given that it’s mostly men who travel, it would make sense for them to have some amusement. Pickup or no pickup, when you’ve had a long day of business, you want some laughter, preferably with sexual frisson included. On that note, there was more reading to be done upstairs, so we downed our cocktails and headed back up to lay our remaining cards on the table.
We slept well until our breakfast arrived: I’d ordered the healthy option for Hedgie, who needs to watch his weight, while I had the most scrumptious baked doughnut - almost like a brioche - filled with warm custard.
And then we had to go and I really didn’t want to. But you can stay there, and if you’re smart you’ll take advantage of one of the hotel’s packages, which are excellent, and all geared around particular interests. If seduction isn’t your thing (though I can't think why it wouldn't be) you can shop, eating or whatever: they’ll sort it all out for you.
The Metropolitan currently has some great special offers. Click here for more.
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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