First up was a night out at the Punchbowl which is the pub in Mayfair owned by Mr Ex-Madonna, Guy Ritchie. When you hear about these celebrity haunts in the media, you get the impression that they are touched by stardust given all the fuss generated. After spending four hours in said venue, I concluded that it was not stardust that lingered in the air at the Punchbowl but the faint whiff of Eau de Bull.
The charm of the place eluded me but maybe that was because I was starving. I’d ordered the scallops for my mains so when all six of them arrived I thought:
Where’s the rest?
As it was my friend's birthday, we wanted a few happy snaps but the small print on the menu clearly stated:
No photography is allowed in the venue.
Oh please. As if I want to take photos of a bunch of bankers and tourists. Get over yourself Guy. And how about churning out a decent movie one of these days eh?
Dean Street Townhouse where we took our visitor from Oz the following night was pleasure itself. It’s so refreshing when a place lives up to its hype. Part of the Soho House group, Dean Street is a relatively new kid on the block and has been garnering rave reviews ever since it debuted several months ago. I can happily contest that the food, atmosphere and service were delightful. And like the previous night, I did not leave hungry. Only hungry for more.
The weekend saw us winging it to Wiltshire for a long promised visit with friends who have a weekend hideaway out that way. The weather was delightful and our friends whisked us on a jaunt through the English countryside, incorporating the Ridgeway which is the oldest known road in England. We also went to see the White Horse of Uffington which dates back to the Bronze Age and has beside it, Dragon Hill, purported to be the site where St George slew the dragon.
Seeing where a dragon was killed was not too shabby a way to end the week. And we could take photos.
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