Spoilt rotten: Birthday afternoon tea at the Balmoral

Sorry about the lack of blog yesterday.

The thing is, I usually write my blog at least a day ahead, and schedule posts to go live at lunchtime, which is when I read other people's blogs, and always hope other people have updated.

But on Sunday, I was in no fit state to blog, because I had been spoilt rotten.

Thursday is my 30th birthday. I'm feeling quite sanguine about it, all things considered, although there's still time for that to change. But I didn't feel like having a party or a big night out. It took me ages to decide what I wanted to do to celebrate it - apart from a weekend in London with my family, and staying on for a few days to see friends next week, and taking a day off and going for a nice boozey lunch with The Husband on the day itself (when I put it like that it sounds like quite a lot already, doesn't it?)

But then I realised: what I really wanted was a grown-up tea party. With champagne. Of course.

The Husband excelled himself and booked us into the Palm Court at the Balmoral for afternoon tea at lunchtime - so we'd actually have room to do the tea justice!

It was only a few days before that I realised it was Mother's Day, and resigned myself to things being a little bit crowded and frantic, but still fun.

But actually, I couldn't have been more wrong. If you've not been to the Palm Court, I'd recommend going for the setting alone - it feels a little bit like one has stepped into a smaller, more intimate, and infinitely smarter version of Ricks in Casablanca. It was full, but not crowded, and not noisy - there was a hubbub of gentle conversation with a harpist playing from a balcony above.

We were guided to our table, the waiter discreetly asked if there was a birthday - something The Husband had mentioned on booking, but I didn't clock.

They brought us the menus, and we selected our teas, and our champagnes - three of us had Bollinger, one Bollinger Rose.

There were rounds of shortbread on the table as we arrived, as well as clotted cream and jam. At this point, I started grinning like an eight-year-old - it was absolutely perfect.

Then came pots of tea - a pot each, and later, refills at no extra charge.

Followed by glasses of champagne (the grin got wider).

Followed by silver cake stands. The bottom tier held finger sandwiches - salmon and cucumber, beef, brie, egg, and ham.

The middle tier held three mini scones each - one honey, one cinnamon, and one fruit. My husband had mentioned when booking that one of our friends was allergic to cinnamon and her scones came on their own separate plate, cinnamon free and entirely without fuss.

And the top tier held the cakes. Tiny, delicate - more like petit fours. A frangipane tart. A mini blueberry cheesecake square. A chocolate thing I didn't have room for, and a light cream cake with a raspberry on top.

At this point a better blogger than me would have taken a picture. I got stuck in, instead. Sorry.

The food was lovely - as one would expect, really, especially at those prices.

But what tipped it over into perfect was the atmosphere, and the service. Little touches - the fact that our waiter clearly enjoyed making people happy and could only just stop himself grinning as we cooed while he explained what the cakes were and handed out our teapots. The fact that when we asked for more cream and jam - what was on the table wasn't really enough to cover 12 scones, especially when we were feeling as greedy as we were - they instantly brought us not one more plate, but two. We didn't manage to finish it in the end! The service was friendly, quick and unobtrusive - plenty of chances to ask for things, but we didn’t feel under pressure or interrupted.

And then. Just as I was halfway through my third scone, with a contented smile on my face (and probably a lot of icing sugar down my front!), the music the harpist changed, to a light and tinkling Happy Birthday, and the staff brought out a slice of chocolate cake with a polka dot candle in it. As the other diners realised what was happening they turned round and smiled, but there wasn't the cringe-worthy Italian restaurant moment when everyone is looking at you and music is blaring.

I've never had Happy Birthday played to me by a harpist before, and trust me, it was lovely.

When I'd finished grinning, and split the slice of cake between four - I couldn't have managed it on my own! - we finished our scones, and most of our cakes. The survivors were put into a box for us to take away.

And then, after two hours of bliss, we headed out smiling into the street, and hit the shops. Looking at the length of this post, that's a story for another day.

Now, the Balmoral isn't cheap. In fact, it's sinfully expensive. The tea was £26, the champagne around £12 a glass. There are places where you can get a fantastic afternoon tea cheaper - in fact, I'd highly recommend Eteaket which does a lovely tea for £14.

But if it's a special occasion, and you want something magical, and you don't mind pushing the boat out, I'd really recommend the Balmoral.