M ay I be permitted to take a break from wine
this week? My preferred theme is our national beverage, tea. At least, I thought it was our national bever- age, until two experiences gave me cause to wonder. I shall relate them.
It is of course only to be expected that an adult should not be able to sit down and drink such dangerous stimulants as beer and wine at five in the afternoon — and the fact that foreigners do it is just a proof of their inferiority. Tea, on the other hand, is the correct and civilised and utterly English thing (despite the fact that it comes from the Far East) — and where better to seek it than in the cradle of English civilisation, the cosy and picturesque towns and villages of the Thames valley?
Not far from Windsor, by the banks of the river, stands the Oakley Court Hotel. It is a fine Victorian Gothic pile, a Holly- wood vision of English country life, used in fact as a setting for Hammer horror films. In front of the quaintly carved thick oak staircase stands one of those black plastic boards with white letters indicating confer- ence schedules for Sony executives. No matter: inside, in the duskily, richly glow- ing rooms old ladies are sipping Earl Grey and eating scones.
My companion and I proceed, feeling a little like characters in a BBC adaptation of Trollope, and install ourselves on a sofa looking out on to the parterre leading to the Thames. A well-dressed waiter approaches . . . . His ingratiating smile vanishes: full tea unfortunately not avail- able, due to conference in progress. Just a cup of tea? Of course. After several minutes there is no sign of him, and we have to seek him out. Oh, no tea of any kind possible, manager's instructions. It is time to say farewell to Oakley Court.
Reasoning that the failure to provide tea could be linked to the infiltration of foreign management, we next try an even more quintessentially English spot, the Hind's Head Inn at Bray. But something in the eyes of the sweet girl at Reception tells us that this is not our day. They used to do tea . . . Have we tried the Oakley Court Hotel? On our way home (where we eventually enjoy a well-earned cup of Lapsang Suchong and a slice of home- made fruit cake) we drop in at the River- side Hotel in Maidenhead, where the
nightwatchman kindly offers us a tea-bag.
Our second story starts, once again at the infusing hour of five, at the Waldorf Hotel in the Aldwych. This place is noted, my companion tells me, for its thes dan- sants, and indeed, as we enter the great domed ballroom, tea appears to be in progress, with dancing imminent. Station- ing ourselves at a convenient table, vic prepare for a pleasant 'period' 'experience. This is rudely cut short, however, by a waiter, the spitting image of Manuel in Fawlty Towers, telling us that this table, and indeed all the others, are reserved. This might have been more acceptable (though having to book a table for two for tea seems a bit much) if he had shown anY regret: on the contracy, he appeared only too pleased to be rid of us. Back on the street, and a trifle fractious, we espy the apparently safe haven of the Strand Palace Hotel Coffee Shop. We care little at this stage that it should resemble a motorway café, and indeed be run bY Trusthouse Forte. At least, thank heaven, it is half-empty. We sit a while and then as in a bad dream or Builuel film a waitress comes and tells us that we must report to a check-in desk before being served. In front of the check-in desk stands a line of people who look as though they would queue t° get into Dante's Inferno. We return, exasperated beyond reason, to our table. After a time, a short man in flared trousers comes up. He has clearlY been watching too many American police serials, because he produces a wallet fronl his breast-pocket, flashes a card, and snaps, 'Security'. It turns out that he ls serious: by quietly sitting at a table waiting to be served tea we are causing a disturb' ance. Leaving before the police are sum- moned to remove us, we find a Greek café round the corner where we are cheerfullY given two cups of tea in ten seconds flat. Several conclusions could be drawn from all this. One is that without the Chinese, Indians, Greeks, Turks, and Italians (for Lord Forte is now an honorary, nay hon- oured, Englishman) who provide decent and cheap food and drink, London would be unimaginably awful. Another is that of our two great institutions we English, in the last resort, prefer the queue to the cup.
Ausonius
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