Town House Kensington
109-113 Queen’s Gate
South Kensington
SW7 5LP
London Landmarks Afternoon Tea £45pp*
Town House kensington

Hello again, folks. Today we are indulging in the London Landmarks tea at Town House, Kensington. As the name suggests, this is a themed tea commemorating the landmarks that make up London’s iconic skyline. Actually, they don’t commemorate them exactly. If we were to accurately portray them as they have been the last few years, Big Ben would be surrounded by Twiglets representing scaffolding and the phone box would be decorated with cards of naked women with a river of pee dribbling out the bottom. Personally, I’d have preferred something a bit more obscure. The Whitgift Centre, Croydon, carved out of marzipan, perhaps. Or The Vagina Museum, Camden, sculpted from an avocado with the pit removed. But that would attract a pretty niche market of one, so here we are, eating a praline Gerkin and living it large.

Except it’s not that large, because this afternoon tea, whilst looking the part, is a bit of a mixed bag of mhew.

Location – Kensington/Knightsbridge: home of Harrods, The V&A, and people taking pictures of Lambogini’s parked along Sloane Street because… I don’t know, watched too much Top Gear, I guess. People have weird interests… say’s the afternoon tea blogger. Anyway, moving on…

Surroundings – It’s a weekday so I have most of the opulent saloon to myself. I settle into the plush sofas with a good book and await the gastronomic feast I’ve been bracing myself for. I’m a honorary Londoner. This is edible version of London. I’m in a very peculiar version of heaven right now.

Atmosphere – There isn’t one. The background music consists of light piano jazz mixed with a sub-genre of house music I’d call ‘sobering up from a dodgy E on the beach in Ibiza in 1995’. It doesn’t offend, but it doesn’t entertain either. Also, for as annoying as most people can be, it does feel nicer when there are a few other souls scattered around. It stops the staff getting bored and focusing their attention on me for want of anything else to do (when a family of four eventually arrives they are treated to a whistle-stop tour of the table that includes such informative gems as ‘this white item here is the cream. And these items here are the sandwiches’. You can’t trust people to know what they’re eating just because they booked and paid for it. They’ll get all confused and start gnawing the chair legs by mistake.

Presentation – Hands down, that three-tiered stand is the best three-tiered stand in the history of three-tiered stands. If I could buy one, I would. It’s a delight, along with the beautiful China, spotless linen and silver accruements. It’s visually stunning.

Drinks – I don’t much fancy champagne as I don’t want to spend the next six hours burping, so I opt for a complimentary strawberry mocktail instead. It’s fruity and refreshing and comes with too much ice because I forgot the cardinal rule of asking for ice in a separate glass so they can’t skimp on the real ingredients (that is the only worthwhile tip you will probably take away from this entire blog. Mixologists won’t like you for it, but they’ll know you mean business and afford you respect as an high-functioning alcoholic). This is followed with a large pot of English Breakfast tea to warm myself up. It’s lukewarm and could probably hold up the table it’s that strong, but a extra jug of hot water soon solves that problem. So far, so good.

Savouries – Very small but very good. The broccoli and Stilton quiche is rather nice, but it is the crab cake with tartar sauce and the delicious stake and ale pie with its slow-cooked beef, rich gravy, and delightful puff pastry lid that really hits the mark. No doubt, these are all lovely, and together with the mocktail and the sumptuous surroundings we are off to a glorious start. This, I am sure, will be the mother of all afternoon teas. I am positive that it will be outstanding and leave other teas in the shade and will…

Sandwiches – Crusts! You’ve left the crusts on? No! Nonononononononono! Does not compute! Does not compute! You can’t leave the crusts on. That’s like leaving the price tag on a Birthday present. Its smacks of total disinterest. Also, what in the name of all that is holy is going on with the coronation chicken? I don’t eat coronation chicken that often, but when I have its never tasted this sweet. It’s like someone was making a Christmas pudding and dropped a chicken leg into the mix by mistake. It’s awful. And I have two of the bloody things to substitute for an egg and cress roll I didn’t want. Lucky me. The salmon and cucumber sandwiches are fair enough but… I’m sorry, you lost me at crusts and you never got me back.

Scones – Fine, I guess. Less like scones, more like the floury biscuits I once received in a stateside KFC to sop up the gravy and baked bean juice I didn’t order. Perfectly serviceable, though the Heather Hills strawberry jam has the consistency of tap water and dribbles all over the table and down the front of my dress. I hope the sudden nose bleed look is in vogue at the moment.

Desserts – These are the standouts of the tea, apparently. Themed around iconic London landmarks, we have The Shard (four triangular chocolate shells encasing a bland carrot cake), The Gerkin (white chocolate covering an overly rich dark chocolate ganache), a leaning tower of telephone box (a so-so rhubarb mousse) and Big Ben (a lovely lemon curd tart with rice paper decoration). Is it just me, or do these look a bit underwhelming up-close? I mean, that telephone box is definitely subsiding, and as for The Gerkin…. well, let’s just say Ann Summers turns a good profit selling things that look very similar. It’s not even the right colour, for God’s sake! The telephone box might be the right colour, but it looks like it was put into a Tardis-shaped mould for a Doctor Who-themed Birthday cake. And the edges of my shard don’t join up properly. And the roof of my Big Ben is wonky, and… okay, I’ll stop picking at these nits now, otherwise we’ll be here all day. If they tasted better I probably wouldn’t mind so much, but when the tea is sold mostly on its aesthetic charm and that aesthetic isn’t 100%, you do come away with the sense of having been short-changed along the way.

Service: 4/5
Surroundings: 4/5
Savoury selection: 3/5
Scones: 2/5
Desserts: 3/5

Verdict – A mixed bag. Looks amazing at first sight, but take away the stand and the lovely savouries and the rest is surprisingly uninteresting. It didn’t help that a combination of too large a takeaway box and my own stupidity lead to the following catastrophe when I got home. And yes, I did use a spoon to scrape what remained of Big Ben off the cardboard. It was the only part of the tea I wasn’t willing to throw away. Okay, but overall a bit of a let-down. A very generous 3/5 teacups.

💂🏻‍♀️💂🏻💂🏾‍♂️💂🏻‍♀️💂🏻

Tower Bridge featurette – Whilst we are on the subject of London landmarks, it’s time to check out a bona fide classic. It has been on my bucket list for quite some time to visit Tower Bridge. I was hoping to save it for a time when I moved into the borough and could receive the special £1 rate for local residents, but as my balls haven’t been pulled in the lottery yet it’s time to give it a go while I can still climb stairs unassisted.

And boy, are there A LOT of stairs. Sure, you can take the lift, but that’s not for intrepid explorers who want to see steel and girders and original Victorian rivets. Only when you are four flights up and reaching for your emergency bottle of Tropicana do you realise that one rivet looks very much like another rivet, and the ingenuity of Victorian engineering isn’t enough to overlook the stitch you get from hoofing it up the stairwell to escape the hideous paint scheme, which is pitched somewhere between baby food and diarrhoea on a Farrow & Ball colour chart.

However, if the construction of the bridge doesn’t fire my imagination, the social history interests me greatly. Take for instance the story of Albert Gunter – a pleasing cross between Evel Knivel and Reg Varney – who in December 1952 jumped his number 52 bus and its 20 passengers across the rising bascules of the bridge after the watchman failed to bring down the gate to warn motorists that the bridge was about to open. Today Albert would be on the phone to the National Accident Helpline suing TFL for his broken leg and emotional distress. Back in ’52 Albert was just happy to get an extra day off work and £10 compensation to split between himself and “the missus” (if you think £10 was a lot of money in post-war England, it is the equivalent of about £290 in today’s money. Pretty paltry considering. Nowadays he’d probably see his life story made into a feel-good Brit-flick starring James Corden. Or at the very least earn him a 9th place showing on Dancing on Ice). The bascules now open to river traffic up to 800 times a year, but only to ships that are over 30 feet tall and give bridge authorities at least 24 hours notice that they will be passing underneath. With the exception of a fantasy sequence in Spiceworld: The Movie, no London bus has soared so high since Albert’s heroic acrobatics.

A more macabre aspect to the bridge is the area beneath the north tower referred to as Dead Man’s Hole. This hidden alcove is easily missed by visitors and isn’t discussed on the official Tower Bridge website, which tends to focus on more cheery factoids whilst neglecting the important function this dreary cavity played in the early history of the bridge and The Thames itself. This section was essentially a mortuary to accommodate the bodies that frequently washed up on this particular stretch of the river. A hooked pole would be deployed to retrieve the waterlogged bodies, which would then be brought up the stone steps and deposited in the tiled alcove. They would remain there until they had either been identified and claimed, or, as was often the case, were buried anonymously. The tiles themselves were necessary for hygienic purposes, as the build up of gasses inside the body during decomposition could cause corpses to explode, so surfaces that could easily be washed down were vital. Needless to say, there are no postcards of Dead Man’s Hole available in the giftshop.

A more popular aspect of the bridge, and indeed probably its biggest selling point nowadays, is the elevated walkways connecting the north and south towers. Originally intended to allow pedestrians to cross the bridge whilst it was opened to river traffic, it became apparent that Londoners would sooner wait for the bridge to close and simply walk across as normal than climb the seemingly endless stairs or use the lift up to the walkways. A practical failure, it soon attracted a less salubrious clientele of pick-pockets, prostitutes, and other roguish elements plying their dubious trades. This unofficial red light district closed to pedestrians in 1910, but reopened to the public in 1982 offering visitors majestic views of the city skyline and, since 2014, the chance to walk across gimmicky glass floors on which to sprawl and take selfies in the mirrored ceilings overhead. Why? I don’t know. The view below consists of the bascule roadway, murky Thames water and the roofs of passing Peugeots, but it’s a novelty that will entertain the kids and force everyone else to tiptoe around their kicking, screeching, dribbling, giggling, flailing little bodies, the little bast- ANGELS! Sorry, angels! I definitely meant to say angels.

The same ticket will also grant you admittance to the engine room, which is exciting if you’re heavily into pistons and coal and shiny machinery. To be honest I got it confused with the bascule chamber, an Orwellian, cavernous space beneath the bridge which I was disappointed to learn can only be accessed by taking a separate guided tour or if you are lucky enough to attend one of the sporadic concerts held there due to its impressive acoustics. Like I said, Tower Bridge is a true London landmark, so it is definitely worth an hour of your time. However, in terms of entertainment value, you might find that simply admiring the bridge from afar or exploring the perimeter of its mock gothic exterior from ground level makes the £11.40* price tag a little unnecessary. Peace out, old beans xxx

*Prices/information subject to change

Feel free to share stories, views and tips in the comments section below. Always fun to hear from fellow teaholics xx