Our London cab pulled up outside of the doors to The Ritz. Alex went to haul one of the suitcases out of the back of the taxi and was gently montioned not to worry. As I paid the driver and left my tip I could hear the porter quietly talking into a microphone in his sleeve, "Mrs Reyment is checking in" he said. As we checked in the reception staff gave me a Ritz blue carry bag with roped handles, "A gift M'am" they said. Inside was a beautiful hard cover book, wraped in Ritz paper emblazoned with their lion emblem and tied with pure white satin ribbon. A full press kit accomapanied it covering everything I would need to know.
We were escorted to the hospitality room to allow the final touches to be made to our suite and were told to make ourselves comfortable with bottled mineral waters, tea, coffee, fresh fruit, caramel and coconut slice, use of the internet, television, the latest edition of Tattler, The Ritz magazine and newspapers from all over the world - we were after all, a little early.
The old fashioned key was placed into the lock in the dark timber door of our suite, the gateway to heaven. A member of staff showed us through our elegant 'Piccadilly suite'. She adjusted the temperature to our liking, the porter delivered our bags before dissapearing back down the hallway with a tenner in his pocket.
It was not long before Alex took a running leap accross the plush carpet, launching himself onto the huge expanse of bed. We explored our temporary home together, oohing and ahhing at everything we found. A satin bound, Ritz blue, top hat was filled with chocolates and truffles, we ate them together, lavishing in luxury.
The phone rang with a voice on the end enquiring if the temperature in our suite had adjusted to our liking, Alex assured them that everything was just perfect. I ventured out to visit the hall porters desk and enjoyed some banter about some goings on in this classy hotel - anything is possible at The Ritz I am told. "We indulge in anything with the exception of illicit drugs and women" Michael the head porter shares.
Our booking for champagne afternoon tea was for 3.30pm in the Palm Court. The Palm Court appears today exactly as it was when The Ritz began in 1906, of course it has been maintained a little. Golden cherubs look over the dining room, delicately splashed with pale lemons and soft greens. I begin afternoon tea with champagne whose bubbles rose up towards the ornate ceiling. Alex had a lemonade. The three tiered cake stand was filled with pretty sweet cakes and pastries, warm scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream that would take you to heaven. Ribbon sandwiches of smoked salmon, cucumber, poached chicken, tender ham and egg were layed in neat little rows, they were a true statement of elegance and were lovely washed down with English breakfast tea. Waiters danced the floor ferrying silver tea pots and milk jugs to silver haired ladies wearing twin sets and pearls. There was not a care in the world in the Palm Court today. Maureen and Carol on the table beside us were celebrating their birthdays together, a special treat shared between old friends. Maureens eyes welled with tears as she spoke of her husband passing recently, I gave her a gentle squeeze on the arm, she smiled. As they left, Carol said how lovely it was to meet us, "You have a lovely yound man there" she said making my heart swell with pride.
Alex had enquired about what cars might be in the car park and as if by magic, when we had finished afternoon tea, Michael the head porter escorted us out to the kerb where Winston was waiting with a shining, Ritz blue, Rolls Royce Phantom. He took Alex by the arm and began to show him all the little secrets belonging to his 'Lady Caroline'. Alex was enthralled and hung on Winston's every word. Winston was so lovely and is so passionate and excited about what he does - he is living his dream.
He swung open the door and told us to hop inside, "I'll take you for a ride around London's streets" he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. We cruised the busy streets and left a wake of craned necks behind us as people tried to see who was inside - they would surely have been dissapointed to see it was only us. Winston turned up the stereo and we laughed as 'Putting on the Ritz' sang out. Back kurbside, Winston told his stories to us, his captive audiance. What a guy.
We were a little over Michelin starred dining so opted to wander passed Piccadilly Circus to Soho for a cheeky little Indian meal, it was great. We did not want to waste a minute of our 24 hours of opulance so we hot footed it back to The Ritz, "Good Evening Mrs. Reyment, Master Reyment", the words trailed behind us as we arrived back home.
Our room had been turned down for the night and a bath robe in Alex's size had been delivered to the suite. Soft classical music played, slippers were layed out on a linen square at each side of the soft bed. The headboard was tied with a white linen sash embroidered with The Ritz emblem, all used toiletries were replaced, all towels were changed, bottled Ritz mineral water sat waiting beside the bed with blue hued wine glasses ready to fill and the 'do not disturb' sign lay on the fluffed up pillows.
We lay in bed reveling in luxury and watched a movie together until sleep came. Alex tossed and turned and then tossed and turned some more. I told him if he could not be still he would be relocated to the fold out bed in the sitting area, it was not long before he was, I covered my self with the doona and piled the pillows on my head and drifted into slumber in my little cocoon...
I woke in the black of night as Alex sat beside me on the bed. "There you are" he said confused. "It's 3 in the morning, what are you doing?" I replied. He began to tell me his story that went like this...
"Mum, I don't know what has happened. I woke up in a hallway outside someone's door and didn't know how I got there, it was terrible. I found my way back to the room and started banging on the door and ringing the bell. I banged and yelled for about 10 minutes and you didn't come. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do. I went back down the hallway to the vestibule area and looked down to where the porters desk was. I yelled down to them that something had happened and I was coming down so don't go anywhere. I ran down the stairs and told them I had woke in the hallway and had been bashing on the door to my suite and Mum was not answering. The porter brought me back to the room and when I came back inside I couldn't see you and thought you weren't there so I called after the porter and said Mum's not inside the room. He told me to stay inside and he would try to find you. I sat on the bed and then you sat up, oh Mum I was so worried and scared."
By the time Alex had relayed this incredible story to me and I had completely woken up I thought I had better ring the porters to tell them that I was safe in my room and everything was just fine. Lucky I did as they had two security teams scouring every floor, one started at the top of the hotel and one at the bottom to meet in the middle. You know the Reyment's - wherever we go there is a story to tell, I just did not expect to have such a spectacular one with The Ritz as the setting.
We colected our baggage and the head porter picked up his phone. "A car will be here shortly to take you to the train station." Before long a silver BMW whisked us away and we left the lap of luxury behind us. What a wonderful experience. 
