Now, if anyone thinks there is anything such as a benign dictatorship, think again. You only have to look back to Henry VIII to see what can happen. While these desperados creat havoc and destroy people’s lives they also have sycophants fawning over them for fear of losing their own position … or even their heads. This innocent little tale of a scone from Newens, The Original Maids of Honour in Kew will help illustrate the point and educate those of you who are not already familiar with tarts.
We are in London for a combined wedding anniversary/house warming party … it was quite a bash! After everything had calmed down we thought we should take a couple of our granddaughters and educate them in the art of scone and tart appreciation. High Tea First impressions are very definitely of a genteel quintessentially English tearoom. A sort of hang out for blue rinse ladies and probably not the best sort of environment for a pair of scallywags. We ordered ‘high tea’ for two at £18 per person. It turned out to be more like what we would call ‘afternoon tea’ at home. We are in the madness they call London so perhaps such things are to be expected. More than that they also had ‘The Special Taster Set Tea‘ at £35 per person, the Champagne Set Tea, the Prosecco Set Tea, the Savoury Set Tea as well as the Maids of Honour Afternoon Tea. Gosh, we may have to go back! So what is all this Maids of Honour stuff anyway? HR departmentsFor that we have to return to Henry VIII. Apparently when he was married to Anne Boleyn he walked in one day to find Anne and her maids of honour tucking in to some little tarts that one of the maids had baked. He tasted one and found it so delicious he decided they should be made exclusively for him. So instead of chopping Anne’s head off right away and promoting the maid to wife … or even Queen, he imprisoned the maid so that she could bake tarts just for him. The recipe was locked away in an iron box in Richmond Palace. Anne’s head would have to wait a while until it could be detached. Heads of HR departments all over the world may be squirming at the moment however Henry would doubtless have topped them as well.   One of the features of our High Tea was that you had to go next door to the bakery shop and pick your preferred cake. One of our young granddaughters chose a chocolate eclair and the other a chocolate truffle. I of course had to have the Maids of Honour tart. Before all that, of course, there was the sandwiches and scones. All washed down with as much tea as you could drink. As expected, it was all very good. The scones were deliciously soft, not crunchy like we usually prefer but somehow they were still good enough for our top award. And what of the Maids of Honour tarts? Well, obviously the recipe has escaped from its strongbox in the Palace and somehow found its way to Newens. We hope we are not putting ourselves at risk by disclosing it here though Newens still keep their recipe secret. They are delectable little crisp puff pastry wonders with a filling of squidgy cheese and lemon curd. Fan-dabby-dozy … we could easily understand why Henry got a bit carried away! COP26We wonder what Henry VIII would make of the COP26 summit starting today in Glasgow. It stands for the 26th United Nations Climate Change Conference of the Parties and will see over 400 private jets flying in as well as all all the other flights. They will produce more climate warming gas than the whole of Scotland in a year. Not an auspicious start. TW9 3DU tel: 020 8940 2752 Newens Bakery
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Tag Archives: London
Smugglers Cafe
Today we are in a Cornwall cafe, the Smugglers. It’s inspired by life on the beach, surfing waves and getting your hair bleached by the sun. Only problem is that the nearest beaches, discounting the nearby mud banks of the River Thames, are many many miles away. 
We are actually in Putney in central London. Nevertheless, Chrissie, who owns this place, has a soft spot for Cornwall and is determined that the Smugglers Cafe should make people feel a little bit of that Cornwall vibe.
“Cornish Smugglers” conjures up a somewhat romantic notion of hardy folk trying to get the better of overzealous excise men. In London, however, we suspect it might have somewhat darker overtones. Fortunately, the decor of surfboards and photos of bronzed beach-ready bodies went some way towards lifting our mood as the rain did its best to come through the plate glass of the Smugglers Cafe window.
The cafe itself is tiny but the staff are welcoming and soon had us fixed up with a delicious lunch. After that, we could not risk a scone each so we shared a cream tea. Our tea came from Cornwall, grown on the Tregothnan estate (the only tea grown in England) and the Origin coffee is roasted there as well, in Helston. Never been to Cornwall so our knowledge is limited.
Need to go
We know though that it’s the home of the ubiquitous Rodda’s Cornish Cream, the bane of our lives. We also know that it is the home of a kind and civilised people who stoically tolerate their brutish neighbours in Devon spreading cream first on their scones. 
There was plenty of both jam and cream with our scone and we were in no doubt which was to go on first. The fresh raspberries and blueberries were a nice touch. The scone itself, however, was a bit of a disappointment. Just a bit stodgy and certainly not what we expected from a good Cornish scone. Perhaps we need to actually go to Cornwall?
99 to go
T
here were lots of nice homely touches in the Smugglers Cafe. On our table there was a tiny green bucket with little discs inside. It was 100 Extreme Things to Do Before You Kick The Bucket … great! Almost the first one we pulled out was Go On A Blind Date, eh? We did that nearly 50 years ago … and we’re still on it! How on earth are we supposed to get round to the other 99?
Recycling?
This week has been bittersweet … we finished the Christmas cake on the train coming down to London. Pat baked it and I iced and marzipan it with the indispensable assistance of a couple of granddaughters. Pat is not that keen but I am very keen on Christmas cake so when I say ‘we’ finished it I really mean ‘I’ finished it. That’s it gone for another year … boo! Christmas, of course, has other after-effects. Today there is much talk of the need to recycle. Indeed it has taken over our lives. Knowing what goes in which bin and when it goes out has become a sort of art form. People who actually know these things are regarded as truly wise oracles, surreptitiously consulted by their bewildered neighbours.
We buy masses of plastic castles, farmyards and other lumps of plastic just to keep our little angels momentarily happy. It is all then stuffed in a cupboard to be thrown out the following year to make way for even more stuff. Never mind the energy it takes to produce all this rubbish, when we try to recycle plastic it takes lots more energy. Either that or it goes to landfill. It’s ironic that in attempting to get some short term gratification from our children we actually end up helping destroy their future. The smart thing to do, of course, is not to recycle but not to buy in the first place! The children won’t mind. Especially if you explain that having a non-plastic Christmas might make it worthwhile going to the effort of growing up.
They may even get to Cornwall and enjoy that vibe!
SW151JT. Tel: Smugglers
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Café 66
We are joining the swallows and migrating south. Not because we are fed up with Brexit (although you can’t get any more fed up than us) but to visit my sister in Nice. Before that, however, we have a stop over in the Big Smoke! As we have often found before, finding a scone in London can be surprisingly difficult. There are endless cafés of European, Asian or even US origin but traditional English tea rooms can be few and far between.
On this occasion it led us to ask the question …. when is a scone not a scone? The answer can be found here in Café 66 in London’s SW13. It is a relatively new kid on the block and certainly wasn’t here the last time we were in town. Of course, it had to be investigated. It is what we would call ‘bijou’ … small but perfectly formed. It is operated by a delightful mother and daughter team from Poland. They could not have made us more welcome.
A spot of lunch was called for, however, as you all know by now, we like to finish things off with a scone. “Do you have scones?” we asked. “What are you saying?” It wasn’t the Scottish accent it was simply that the young girl didn’t know. “Scones. they are like a little cakes that you eat with jam and cream.” we persevered. “Eh?” Thankfully at this point mum came to the rescue “Oh, I know what scones are – in this country you have them in the afternoon with tea.” “Yes”, we exclaimed. No, we don’t have any scones“.
Energy balls
With our hopes dashed on the jagged rocks of false expectation, we looked around and had to admit that there were lots of other delicious looking alternatives. In the absence of scones, however, we decided to go for one of their ‘Energy Balls’. They are small balls of nuts and fruit bound together with syrup and honey. Perhaps it was because they reminded us of the Lithuanian sco
nes our Trossachs correspondents had sent from Vilnius back in 2016. They were really nice – lovely texture and sweet but not cloyingly so. We did feel like we had had an energy boost. So the answer to the question is that a scone is not a scone when it’s a Polish energy ball. No, we wouldn’t have got it right either.
As we were leaving we asked mum and daughter how they felt about only having about a week left before having to return to Poland. Their puzzled look quickly dissolved into laughter when they realised what we meant. However, it was quickly followed by looks of alarm and panic. “We are going to have to eat all this food very quickly” they joked, pointing at the display cases. Perhaps not, though.
Embarrasing
The first Saturday sitting of Westminster since the Falklands War, resulted in another defeat for Boris at the hands of his own colleagues. He followed it up with an unsigned letter to the EU asking for an extension. When politics is reduced to this school boy prank level it is embarrassing. Especially when you are in the presence of two ladies who are working incredibly hard to better themselves and better the country they now live in.
The true irony is that the UK’s future may eventually be decided by the DUP. A handful of self serving politicians from N. Ireland who don’t even represent the views of the people of N Ireland. It just gets weirder and weirder. Another energy ball please!
As we left Café 66, mum produced a Mary Berry cookbook, so who knows … next time there may be scones? Now we must continue our migration south.
SW13 0PZ tel: 020 8241 1590 Cafe66
///dash.belt.puns
Orange Pekoe – Revisited
The last time we reviewed a scone at Orange Pekoe the mighty David Cameron was in power. He had just bored a small child half to death with one of his storytelling photo opportunities. It was only a month to go before the EU referendum he had called to resolve all his political problems. Oh, if he had just waited for the result, what a story he could have told then! Except he mysteriously vanished and hasn’t been seen since?
Plonkers
We have come to the conclusion that the subsidies that schools like Eton, Harrow and Westminster enjoy should be withdrawn. They are supposed to produce fine upstanding leaders to rule over us and set an example to us ordinary folk who cannot afford such an elite education. Their primary purpose, of course, is to maintain the system whereby the country’s wealth is retained by them. In recent years, or perhaps always, they have failed completely in this relatively simply task. Instead they have produced a long line of plonkers. Plonkers or not, credit where credit’s due, they have managed to retain their wealth. Stop the privileges for the privileged we say! 
Radical or what?
Anyway, enough of that. London is awash with eating places. Sometimes, however, in such cosmopolitan surroundings, a simple scone can be surprisingly difficult to find. As you know we have reviewed upmarket Claridge’s and top of the range Connaught but our favourite remains this tiny tea house in Barnes. It’s friendly and informal atmosphere is very reassuring. It’s always nice to be greeted with “just the usual” when you walk in after not having been near the place for months. Naturally it serves wonderful food and, of course, a wide range of teas. 
We come here a lot for breakfast but, since the last review was three years ago, we thought we should check the scones again on your behalf.
There was no need to worry our fruit scone came just as it had the last time, deliciously warm and with lots of everything to go with it. Ten out of ten for consistency and absolutely no problem awarding a topscone.
Panto
Orange Pekoe revisited means we are just a short hop up the Thames from the Palace of Westminster and coming up to Christmas it’s panto time again. Never mind Aladdin and Cinderella though the best pantomime this year is definitely here at Westminster … “will she, won’t she?”, “they’re behind you”! Our politics is all happening in typically chaotic pantomime fashion, only with none of the humour! No matter what the result is of tonight’s vote of no confidence in Theresa May, the Brexit pantomime looks set to continue indefinitely. Thank you Orange Pekoe for providing a strong and stable oasis of calm.
SW13 0PX tel: 020 88766070 www.orangepekoeteas.com
John Forrest Bakery
When we write about places like Claridges, the Connaught and even the Bingham Hotel in Richmond, readers could be forgiven for thinking that we only frequent the well-to-do areas of London. Only mix with the upper crust! Well, you would not be far wrong. The thing is though, it just sort of works out that way … honest! We don’t seek these places out! After our sojourn the other day to the Tide Tables Cafe in wealthy Richmond, today we find ourselves in the Kings Road in Chelsea. Home of Sloane Rangers and Hooray Henrys, but not by choice … we are here on an important errand to fix an incapacitated handbag. It just so happens that the Handbag Clinic is here on the Kings Road. Yes, they do have clinics for handbags, however, the less you know about that the better.
Supercars
Famous for its Chelsea buns, the important thing was to check out a Chelsea scone and fill that gap in our collective sconological knowledge base. This part of London offers you the opportunity to pay ten times what you would pay anywhere else on just about anything. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration … but only slight. The streets are lined with super cars … McLarens, Ferraris, Maseratis. The sort of cars that, if we were to sell our house and our children, we would still not be able to afford. Sorry kids if you are reading this, it is just a turn of phrase, it does not mean that you are not worth much. It just means that if you were worth more we might get a supercar … okay!!
It’s ironic that these cars, capable of 200mph, would throw a major party if, by some miracle, they ever got to reach 30mph in London. For most of them, that’s a rather forlorn ambition. Some of them are painted matt black like stealth bombers. Initially we thought this might be to make them invisible to traffic wardens. However then we remembered that the owners of these cars would not be the slightest bit bothered with a hundred parking tickets. So, in a way, the paint finish doesn’t matter … except to look a bit pretentious, of course, and make it difficult for the butler to polish. Golly gosh, what a laugh that would be!
The holy hour
Okay, for those of you thinking that finding a scone in such surroundings should be a piece of cake … not so! It was after 2pm but everywhere we went we were refused. Scones only served between three and five … what? We knew the world had gone mad but this surely is the last straw!
However, there is something oddly right about this. Any other food item you could have any old time of the day but scones, as befits their status of course, only in this blessed two hour window. The conversation goes something like this: Me “may I have a scone please?” Waiter “Is it three o’clock, sir?” Me: “no, it’s half past two”. Waiter: “Yes sir you may have a scone but you will have to wait half an hour.” 
Absolutely no use to us though because we had yet another even more important errand than rescuing an ailing handbag to run. We simply could not hang around until the holy hour when scones would appear, presumably, as if by magic.
Now, readers should know by now that we are not ones for giving up. However, just as we were about to do just that, we stumbled on the John Forrest Bakery. It had scones that could be bought any time of the day or night, yeagh! It wasn’t ideal though … no seats inside and the few they had outside were all taken.
Not to worry, they provided us with two teas in polystyrene cups, a ham & cheese roll … and a scone in a white paper bag … all for £5.10. We take back our previous comment about everything being ludicrously expensive. We then slunk off up a nearby alleyway looking for somewhere to sit and eat. 
Fortunately it led to an enclosed area surrounded by rather utilitarian looking apartment blocks. The hidden side of Chelsea where real people live. In the middle was a kiddie’s play park with a couple of wooden benches. And we had it all to ourselves. It was wonderfully quiet after the hustle and bustle going on only a few yards away.
Trials and tribulations
The scone, which the John Forrest folks had kindly buttered for us had loads of fruit but it wasn’t the best by a long chalk. At least it served to illustrate the trials and tribulations we endure in order to bring our sconey readers news from the UK’s nether regions. Actually, as we sat there on our park bench with our strong tea and very fruity scone, we did not feel trialed or tribulated at all. We did, in fact, feel rather blessed with the whole experience. Without it we would never have discovered this quiet little sanctuary.
Sanctuary is what Theresa May needs as forces range against her from all sides. And she demands that the EU treats the UK with respect. She wants respect from the club we are leaving presumably because we think it’s crap! In the circumstances, we think the EU has been extremely respectful. Meanwhile, no one in government has a clue what is going on. The opposition is worse than useless. As a result the entire country is paralysed in a kind of collective nervous breakdown. What fun!
Picture this
If we had to choose a picture to depict Britain’s current s
tate of mental health there would be only one contender, Edvard Munch’s, The Scream. Even inanimate objects are having issues because the Handbag Clinic was doing a roaring trade. However, what will Brexit mean for handbag clinics?
SW10 0LR tel: 020 7352 5848 John Forrest Bakery FB
ps: we did see a couple of K2 telephone boxes but were unable to photograph them.
Tide Tables Cafe
Have you have ever wondered how many Richmonds there are in the world? No?? Well, there are 56, so if anyone asks, now you know! In 2009 Richmond was voted best town in the UK but that was the one in North Yorkshire. The one we are in today, however, would probably be voted the wealthiest.
A glance in an estate agent’s window will provide you with several opportunities to rent a house for £30,000 a month … a month!! And if you get fed up sitting in your expensive house you can catch a ferry from here to Ham House or Hampton Court Palace and look at places that even you can’t afford. The town is also in an excellent state of repair. The 21,000 good people of Richmond just read about things like potholes if they unwittingly pick up a provincial newspaper. Potholes are not something they would ever have to actually experience for themselves.
Historically the town used to be called Sheen. It was here that the Commissioners of Scotland had to kneel before Edward I after William Wallace was executed in 1305. So how did it end up becoming yet another, common as muck, Richmond? Well, in 1501, when Henry VII built his new residence here, he called it Richmond Palace after his ancestral home, Richmond Castle, in ‘town of the year’ Richmond in North Yorkshire. After all, if you have a lot of castles, you cannot be expected to sit around all day dreaming up new names for all of them. Sheen Palace would have had a certain ‘gloss’ to it though! Anyway, the town that grew up here around Richmond Palace ended up adopting its name. 
Lycra land
Having said that, it isn’t hard to see what attracted folk here in the first place. Set on a meander in the Thames, its a lovely place to stroll around if you have absolutely nothing better to do. Of course, that’s where we come in …itinerant scone munching vagrants. The riverside is particularly nice, it is always busy with cyclists and walkers. Down here you cannot simply put bicycle clips round your trousers and head off blithely on your bike. No, no, no, you have to be fully rigged out, top to tail, in multicoloured lycra so that you look exactly like a competitor in the Tour de France, even though you are only going to pick up a pint of milk. This rules applies no matter your body shape, giving rise to the acronym MAMILs … Middle Aged Man In Lycra.
You also need all the technology. A phone with a head set so that you can dictate notes for tomorrow’s meetings or chat to your auntie Jeanie while you pedal. The obligatory Fitbit is also required so that you can chart your progress to eternal life and body beautiful. The walkers aren’t much better! As befits a place where the people have oodles of choice, Tide Tables is a hip veggie and vegan café. 
It occupies an arch under Richmond bridge next to a boat builder but it also has a lovely outdoor seating area under giant plane trees. We were able to sit in the dappled sunlight and watch the riverside bustle while we ate our scones. If you can’t afford all that lycra you have no choice but to sit and watch?
Being alive
On a slightly different tack. You know how we are always bleating on about places that serve butter and cream from England when we are in Scotland, well down here the butter was from France … mon dieu! Mon dieu, as well for the cream, it was very strange, hard and crumbly. Probably because it had never been within a country mile of a cow. The scone itself was quite big and although it had a fair amount of fruit it just tasted okay. Nothing to write home about. So why are you wasting our time we hear you cry! Okay it wasn’t a topscone but the overall experience of sitting by the river in the sunshine watching everyone else putting so much effort into being alive was wonderfully relaxing. So we can, at least, recommend that. 
Back to front
Sitting here you could possible believe that all was well in the world. Then you remember Brexit! Just why Michel Barnier doesn’t say to Theresa May ” look, the UK has always been a miserable grudging and small minded member of the EU … just close the door on the way out” is beyond us. Instead we have to listen to Theresa May saying that the EU must compromise if they want us to leave … eh, think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Theresa! 
Extradition
And where is David Cameron who got us into this mess in the first place. Playing so fast and loose with the future of the country should be some sort of criminal offence. Presumably, therefore, he is somewhere like North Korea that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the UK. More likely, however, that he is holed up somewhere in deepest Richmond.
TW9 1TH. tel: 020 8948 8285 Tide Tables Café
Café Mimi’s
In the late 19th century, Spring-heeled Jack was a notorious fiery eyed demon of English folklore. He could leap over high objects such as hedges and scare the living daylights out of the good folks of London. And latterly of most of England. There are, however, several accounts of him having been spotted north of the border. In Perthshire near Auchterarder to be precise.
We cannot vouch for all the sightings but one at least proved to be false. What the locals initially thought was Jack turned out to be a young Auchterarder lad who was besotted with a lass from the neighbouring village of Aberuthven. In an attempt 
to dissuade rival suitors he took to leaping out on travelers on the road between the two villages under cover of darkness. Hence it gained the reputation of being haunted. No one knows if this strategy got him the girl but you’ve got to admire his determination, not to mention imagination. We hope it did, such is love.
Quiet calm
Anyway Spring-heeled Jack has nothing to do with anything other than to say that, if he did indeed terrorise the area around Auchterarder, then Café Mimis, with its orderly air of quiet calm, would be the ideal antidote to his antics. On our last visit to the village we had been recommended Café Kisa. At the time, we reckoned it to be the best in town and we would happily have gone back there. However, our mission is to relentlessly go forward and explore the nether regions of such towns and villages. And to report back to our readers on our findings. Hence we ended up here in Café Mimi’s. With the local hotel being Gleneagles, would Mimi’s live up to the local area’s reputation for high class produce and service? No problem, was the answer. 
Beautiful toilets
With temperatures hovering between 25 and 32 °C for the past few months in these parts, Café Mimi’s felt more like this picture which was hanging in their delightful toilet. We don’t normally comment on toilets but Mimi’s is definitely worth a mention. Wouldn’t go there just for the toilet, you understand. However, if you have to go it’s one of the nicest we have ever come across. And that is always a good omen for everything else.
Cravings
The café itself is quite small, only a few tables but everything is spotless and beautifully laid out. We were looked after by a very friendly and humorous lady and her compadre, an equally pleasant lady called Morag. Turned out that she was the one responsible for baking all the fabulous looking cakes … and the scones! 
They only had four left, enough to give Pat a cheese one and me a plain. Both were absolutely delicious with the crunchy exterior and soft center that we crave. Together with the generous helpings of jam and cream it was an easy topscone. Their afternoon tea, which some ladies were enjoying at the next table, looked excellent as well.
Chequers fudge
It’s not that Café Kisa has been knocked off the top spot but more that it has been joined by Café Mimi’s. For a small village like Auchterarder to have two such good scone emporiums is quite something! Spring-heeled Jack may not have been the most level headed sort of chap but what would he have made of today’s news: the tragic death of a person in the ongoing Novichok affair that simply makes no sense whatsoever. The resignation of David Davis, our chief Brexit negotiator, in the face of an equally senseless Chequers fudge. The imminent and senseless Trump visit. His fiery eyes would be even more ablaze. He wasn’t that daft!
PH3 1BJ tel: 01764 664671 Café Mimi’s TA
ps: On the pavement just outside the Sugar& Spice bakery next to Café Mimi’s we came across this sage advice … consider yourselves, warned.
Connaught Hotel
We managed to squeeze our Porsche 911 GT2 RS in between another sports car and a huge black Rolls Royce outside the front door of the hotel. Seriously, the car pictured above was indeed parked like that. However, with a price tag of £211,000 for the basic model it represents more than we have spent on cars in our entire lifetime. It does 0-60mph in 2.8 secs whereas our first car, a Citroen Dyane named Hal after the computer in the film 2001, A Space Odyssey, could only reach that speed in a following wind. Truthfully, we arrived by black cab.
A couple of sheep
It took us through Mayfair to the Connaught and the streets were lined with Ferraris and Lamborghinis so this car was not out of place in the slightest. Definitely the place to see swank, if silly, cars. Our favourite car of all time however remains Hal. Not sure you would get a couple of sheep and bale of straw in the back of that Porsche. At least not without knocking £100,000 off the value! Anyway, this is not a car blog!
As you are very well aware we leave no stone unturned in our sconological quests and once again, as we did at Knockinaam Lodge Hotel, we are going that extra mile … entirely on your behalf! The Connaught (like Claridge’s and the Ritz does not require to have “hotel” after its name … you’re just supposed to know) does luxury rather well.
Because we were a sinful few minutes early we were promptly escorted to the Coburg bar and obliged to drink pink champagne and eat green olives with homemade potato crisps while they prepared our table … nice! We had hardly begun when they announced that the table was ready but that we could take as long as we liked over our champagne. Nice again! 
Dream Tea
When we did eventually sit down to our afternoon tea it was in the very comfortable Jean-Georges restaurant. It had a huge wrap round window so that we could sit and watch the mega-rich going past outside wondering which, if any of them, was not involved in money laundering. 
First thing we had to do was decide on tea … there was no coffee option! Pat opted for a green tea called Gyokuro, made by gently steaming the leaves in pure volcanic water and promising to taste of roasted Fuji apples and tender meringue.
I, having only a vague grasp on reality, opted for Dream Tea, an infusion of the finest chamomile, verbena, lemongrass and mint … wake me up somebody! We’ve seen the correct way to taste posh tea …. you suck it noisily through your teeth, swill it vigorously around your mouth before jettisoning it into a spittoon. But this did not seem like either the time or the place. Interestingly both teas looked and tasted amazingly like hot water … but refreshing nevertheless to our PG Tips palates.
Curd, or not?
We could go on endlessly about the biscuit dogs for dipping in chocolate. Or the Truffle egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Or the Rhubarb Compote with Fromage Blanc but you just want to know about the scones. Don’t you! Needless to say they were delicious. There was a fruit and a plain for each of us, beautifully glazed on top and nicely presented in a silver basket. They were accompanied by homemade strawberry jam, Cornish clotted cream and lemon curd … fab. The lemon curd, however, presented us with something of a quandry … cream with curd, or not?
We should know the answer but, since this is the first time we have been presented with the problem, we don’t. We went ‘with’ and it was nice enough but aesthetically a bit insipid looking. Thoughts on this dilemma would be most welcome. 
The fruit ones had delightfully succulent golden fruit rather than the usual black sultanas. All in all it was a pretty obvious topscone.
However, we don’t want readers running away with the idea that it was all plain sailing. We had had to switch champagnes for the afternoon tea. At one point,Pat even had to pour her own tea!! In the toilets there was someone to greet you. They turned on the taps for you and handed you a beautiful fluffy white hand towel. Too much! The thought of these poor sods standing in a toilet all day, albeit a marbled temple of a toilet, waiting to turn your taps on … arrgghh!
Pouring one’s own tea
They might even wipe bums for the Rees Moggs of this world but we’re not sure. At any rate the very nice gentleman who turned on my taps has probably been deported by now under Theresa May‘s fantastically disgraceful immigration regime. The Connaught must have hundreds of staff. We met quite a few of them and not one of them was British. Does this mean that we will all have to pour our own tea and wipe our own bums after Brexit? Sacré bleu! 
To top it all off the staff presented us with a beautiful little box with some extra scones and jams as we left … wonderful. Or maybe it was the Dream Tea kicking in?
W1K 2AL tel: 020 7499 7070 The Connaught
Costa Coffee
The main street in East Sheen is festooned with lovely new coffee shops so you would think that it would be relatively easy to find a scone. Not necessarily so. We tried several such establishments which all had loads of cakes and pastries but no scones. One place didn’t even seem to know what a scone was … mon Dieu! What seems to be happening is that the new independent cafés and restaurants are all going down the same route. We think it might be called the hipster route. They all look very similar and they all serve the same pretend healthy stuff. Perhaps they don’t do scones because they have to be fresh and are just too much trouble? 
Only marmalade!
Normally we try to give our custom to independent coffee and tea houses rather than the multinationals. Today, however, in this buzzing area of south west London, it was down to Costa Coffee, the second biggest multinational, to come to the rescue. They had fruit scones and they had cheese scones, hurrah! In places like this our expectations are never that high and we feared that after some very indifferent service at the counter and the place being a wee bit untidy, that these expectations were being realised. 
When it came to the scones however we were very pleasantly surprised … they were warm and probably had the most fruit we have had in a scone in a long time. No cream and the only jam they had was marmalade. Heyho, we like to be adventurous.
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Government opposing themselves
Given the overall experience this was nowhere near a topscone. Having said that, however,it wasn’t at all bad. At least Costa is British. Starbucks coming to the rescue would have been too much to bear! Englandshire is going through its local government elections at the moment. Even though London voted overwhelmingly, like Scotland, to stay in the EU the biggest issue in this area seems to be weekly bin collections rather than Brexit! What with everything that has been going on, our present government should be the easiest in living memory to oppose. However the Labour party seems to have failed yet again in that department. The Tories are actually doing a better job of opposing themselves than Labour and are still coming off best in the elections!
SW14 7NX tel: 020 8878 0351 Costa
Euston Station
This is not really a post. It does not contain a scone therefore it is disqualified. However, we did try to find one here at Euston station so we are writing it anyway simply on the basis that we tried. Plus it gives us a chance for a rant before the General Election tomorrow. We have spent the past five days in London visiting our grandchildren.
Normally when we are down here we try to have at least one scone for the enlightenment of our readers. Unfortunately, on day one I was struck down by the lurgy, food poisoning, Montezuma’s revenge, whatever you want to call it. All thoughts of scones, or indeed food of any kind, went straight out the window. Food intake for my entire stay consisted of nothing more than a couple of bits of toast. Some said I was even more miserable than usual. True, that’s how bad it was!
To compound matters I had five little toddler girls who seemed to think it was good fun to use my stomach as a sort of trampoline. Exactly why they thought my stomach looked bouncy I have no idea? Had they not been so utterly gorgeous it would have been unbearable.
London Bridge
Thoughts of politics went out the window as well though I did manage to tear myself away from my intense study of the minute imperfections in porcelain washhand basins when the horrific news of the London Bridge incident came through. Only a couple of miles away and more misery! For right thinking people these things are almost impossible to comprehend but we cannot help but think that the media has to get its act together when it comes to reporting these things. The perpetrators should be given as little publicity as possible. Surely the media can come up with an agreed strategy that does not feed the lunatics’ cause with 24/7 coverage.
Mind you, with a great big toddler in the White House making up policy by binge watching Fox News, that could be a bit of a stretch. We are beginning to see the world according to Rupert Murdoch … sad, very sad! Just read that a website called TrumpiLeaks has been set up for anti-Trump whistleblowers. Don’t think it is anything urological.
Thankfully, here in the UK, electioneering is drawing to a close. As usual everyone has promised the moon and the stars. Theresa May has promised to be strong and stable by being robotic, completely flaky and hiding from the public. The LibDems are probably going to do well in London because of their promise to rerun the EU referendum … but little else. At last, Labour has reared it’s head again. Although it is hardly a roar there are certain encouraging signs of life.
Scotland voting against Scotland?
In Scotland, uniquely in the world, we will probably vote to be governed by another country with mostly contrary interests to our own … heyho. Who knows why we are so utterly gutless as a nation? By the time we reached Euston station on our way home I was feeling vaguely human again. Not quite ready for scone tasting but that’s why I have a partner who can step into the breach in such emergencies. Unfortunately, in spite of its plethora of eateries and retail outlets Euston Station is completely scone free. We did try. Back home now and feeling much better. In spite of all the loving concern from others there is nothing quite like being home when you are under the weather. Apologies for the lack of scones. We promise to do better in future.
Now feeling well enough for tea and a scone. Though if mad May remains in power after tomorrow something much stronger might be called for.