This was a Friday night dinner like no other…
It had been a pleasant four-hour coach trip (yes, they do exist) down the A1, through London’s Docklands and onto Westminster. As the Thames and it’s floating inhabitants slipped into view, anticipation for the evening started to grow exponentially, as if out of nowhere. This was the House of Commons, after all
If this sounds more like an excerpt from some sub-standard version of a Bill Bryson novel, instead of the usual Early Whistle intro, it’s because this was no ordinary experience on the horizon. The phrase ‘if walls could talk’ was about to take on a whole new meaning.
As we slowly made our way to the entrance – the Cromwell Green Entrance, to be specific – scenes from the HP sauce bottle suddenly became larger than life. I.D was a must as you would expect, while the airport-style security was reassuringly as tight as could be. But with these formalities out the way and lanyards safely around necks, the main event was nigh.
Celeb-spotting, face on Sky News, and the basic fifteen minutes of fame were, alas, to remain just fantasies, but any cares about all that nonsense were dispelled in a flash once we entered the building proper. Whilst Robert Preston, Ian Botham and even the odd backbencher were nowhere to be seen, we all suddenly felt like we’d hit the big time. Yes, as much-maligned as the House of Commons may be, it manages to inspire in ways that are off the scale.
The beauty of it is that all you’ve got to do is use your imagination. Just thinking of all the rich and famous who’ve swanned through those corridors over the centuries is enough to make you feel part of a bygone era. Some of them also have a portrait hanging up, too, so who needs shoulders to rub with when you’re in such exalted company? The highlight was arguably a plaque marking the spot where Charles I was tried for treason, back in 1649 – final proof that history is indeed quite cool.
This evening was to throw up another surprise as we discovered we were to be sat in the Members’ Dining Room, described on the Parliament website as “the epitome of grandeur”. With the great and the good dining here on a regular basis, it goes without saying that this was a five-star meal, but let’s shoehorn in some kind of House of Commons restaurant review anyway! Now I’m not necessarily coronation chicken’s biggest fan, but as a starter it was hard to beat. Let’s also not forget that on all the other occasions I’ve tried it, I was tucking into sandwiches at the end of darts night, but that’s bye-the-bye.
The curried flavour that’s the norm with this dish, is usually the dominant force, but this takes was far too cute for all that, leaving a subtle zing that wasn’t dissimilar to what you get with a hint of dijon mustard. The main course of sea bass on a bed of sweet potato balanced invention with sheer flavour, whilst the New York cheesecake was, well, say no more. Oh, and the red wine was an awesome accompaniment, although sadly we never got to find out which one it was exactly.
Oh well, sometimes it’s best to leave a bit of mystery. We can’t come to a close here without a mention of the staff, whose waiting skills were beyond comprehension, and not without the odd choice opinion about some guests who’ve dined here previously. So with dinner and unprintable quotes over, which had been interspersed with two show-stoppping performances by the choir from St Peter’s College, Oxford, it was time to head back the way we came.
This was not, however, without soaking up some more history before the exit. As the coach began to drive us off into the brightly-lit London night, the votes were in and we reflected on what had been a massive aye to the right for the House of Commons.
The Early Whistle 