A Trip to London involving Unashamed Luxury, Good Food, a Publisher, Rock ‘n Roll and how to piss yourself laughing.

I went to London to meet a man who wants to publish me. We’d agreed lunch, at the Savoy, would be both convenient and agreeable.

Built by the prominent impresario Richard D’Oyly Carte, famous for his productions of Gilbert and Sullivan operas, the Savoy Hotel opened on 6 August 1889. the first luxury hotel in Britain, introducing electric lights throughout the hotel, electric lifts, bathrooms inside most of the lavishly furnished rooms, constant hot and cold running water and many other innovations. The French chef, Escoffier, established an unprecedented standard of elegant dining, attracting royalty while Churchill often treated his cabinet to lunch at the hotel. Imagine the newspaper headlines today if that happened!

Bob Dylan stayed in the hotel in 1965 and filmed the video to Subterranean Homesick Blues in the alley alongside the hotel. .

The entrance to the Savoy is disconcerting as it’s the only street in the UK where cars drive on the right; a legacy of the days of the hackney carriage. It’s a tight turn at the entrance – a problem for the personalised Rolls Royce used for VIP guests – and the doorman told me the limited turning circle (25 feet) was still the legally required turning circle for all London taxis. The doorman also told me about  Kaspar, a 3-foot high art-deco black cat used as an extra guest when a table consists of thirteen diners, to stave off bad luck. He is given a full place setting and served each course.

I stayed, for one night only, at the Fairmont Hotel, Banff in the Canadian Rockies, earlier this year and the Fairmont Group now manage the Savoy on behalf of Al-Waleed bin Talal who bought the hotel for £250 million and immediately set about extensive renovations.

They’ve finally finished tarting up The Savoy and the refurbishment has taken three years – at a cost of £220 million. Wow! Buy it for £250 million, acknowledged as one of the best hotels in the world and spend another £220 million improving on perfection. We met my putative publisher, James, in the foyer and walked up the steps to the American bar for a pre-lunch cocktail. My wife had been included in the invitation, but said she’d prefer to sit out lunch so as not to influence the conversation. If you knew my wife as well as I do, you’d appreciate the extent of her deprivation. A definite plus-point to James for over-ruling her by saying we’d eat first, talk business later and it would still be three of us booked in for lunch.

A few years ago I’d had lunch in the Savoy Grill with a young man just starting out as an agent. He’d taken me on after a very early version of what was to become Burn, Baby, Burn had won a competition for new novelists run by the national book chain, Waterstones. The chief buyer of the company had waxed lyrical about my writing and told me this would mark the first steps on the road to stardom. This was in 2002. So much for that idea!!!

The American Bar has white ceilings, a sleek curved bar, art deco mirrors and fittings, Terry O’Neill monochrome portraits and, best of all, a gleaming piano as a centerpiece, complete with pianist playing soft jazz and has been the place to go for cocktails since 1898. ‘The Savoy Cocktail Book’, written by head bartender Harry Craddock in the 1930s, remains the quintessential cocktail recipe guide, and the head bartender at the American Bar, Erik Lorincz, formerly of The Connaught is acknowledged to be at the top of the trade.

I stole the menu so can confirm the ingredients. I had Moonwalk, invented to commemorate the first moon landing. That’s Louis Roederer Premier Cru Champagne blended with Grand Marnier, grapefruit bitters and orange flower water. My wife asked the waiter’s advice and he suggested Erik Lorincz’s signature cocktail, The Malecon: Bacardi, lime aged port and sherry with lashings of rum.

We sat and talked about everything else but books for a while, sipping our drinks in comfort, until the waiter arrived to take us through to the restaurant.

Today we were eating in the restored River Room, at my request. I wanted to see what they’d done to it as I’d thought from my previous visits its Art Deco styling was as close to perfection as anything I’d ever seen. It overlooks the River Thames, has a talented new chef, James Pare, behind the scenes and is modern French cooking at its finest. It was simply magnificent. In every way.

Sorry, that’s all I can say. I’m not a good enough writer to describe perfection in detail. Certainly where food is concerned.

Food. I love food. We ran a restaurant for five years and later again, in France this time, so we understand the pressures on a kitchen. These days we’re strictly ‘end consumers’ and we know what we like.

Ignoring the boring James who was watching his weight, here’s what we ordered.

For starters I had Pan roasted scallops with pineapple, marinaded in sauce vierge of honey and soy. My wife had the Foie gras and duck rillette terrine with passion fruit and preserved cherries.

Our main courses were Roasted loin of venison with caramelised pumpkin, buttered onions,  marrons glacés  and an equisite sloe gin sauce for me and Pan- fried turbot fillet, poached rock oysters, potato terrine, cucumber tagliatelle and saffron miso for my wife.

I rarely eat desserts, but the hospitable James insisted and I have a weak nature! I chose Liquorice crème brûlée with milk confiture, red wine poached pear and sorbet, purely because I was intrigued by the description. It was superb.

My wife played safe with an old favourite; a dish she cooks herself, caramelised apple tarte tatin with vanilla bean ice-cream and apple croustillant.

Add two bottles of wine, French, naturally, and we were done. No cheese. No coffee. The bill came to £268 and James paid it without even blinking. Oh for an expense account.

The meal over, my wife went shopping along The Strand while James and I talked. For two hours. In deep armchairs next to a seasonal log fire. As to the conclusions of that conversation – I’ll get back to you on them. Later.

The previous evening we’d seen We Will Rock You and been blown away by the energy of a youthful cast. The final ten minutes with the entire audience on their feet, swaying, singing along, was magical. I’d mentioned this to James and as he left he gave me a wink and said, ‘these may be some use to you.’ Two front stalls tickets to One Man, Two Guvnors, unavailable anywhere as the show is fully booked right up to February when it transfers to Broadway.

James Corden is an acquired taste. I liked him in Teachers, admired his acting in The History Boys and laughed at him in Gavin and Stacey, but hated A League of Their Own. Overexposure, perhaps. From now on, consider me a massive fan.

One Man, Two Guvnors is based on Carlo Goldoni’s 18th-century Italian commedia dell’ arte piece, The Servant of Two Masters, transformed into a typical British ‘Carry-On’ set in sleazy Brighton in 1963: a place Keith Waterhouse once said always looked as if it was about to help the police with their enquiries.

The play is pure farce with endless ad-libbing and James Corden is magnificent as Francis Henshall, a portly jack-the-lad who carries the whole affair along with great aplomb. Loads of audience participation, clever lines  and some of the best slapstick I’ve ever seen. Francis chats to the audience as if we’re all his mates, tears around in such a fashion that it’s no wonder he’s so (relatively) slender these days and the rest of the cast are brilliant.

Tom Edden as Alfie, an octogenerian waiter made me scream with laughter. Just when you think the joke of the doddery old servant, whose shaking hand is required to carry a soup tureen and who repeatedly falls backwards down the stairs, can go no further; on it goes with Alfie tearing around the stage, crashing into furniture when his pacemaker is set to the wrong speed.

If you get the chance, beg, borrow, steal a ticket to see One Man, Two Guvnors. Funniest stage play I’ve ever seen.

The vexed question of publishing my books – as I said earlier – I’ll get back to you. Soon.