London: Bright lights, big city

Busy night on London's Regent Street. Photo / Supplied

No city does elegance - or afternoon tea - like London, discovers Patricia Greig.

Don't get me wrong, I am proud to have been born an Irish girl with a fire in my belly and no silver spoon in my mouth, and have absolutely no time for pomp and parades. But as I grew up my grandmother would keep me in line by asking daily "Would you do that if the Queen was here?" as I spooned soup towards rather than away from me, or put my elbows on the dinner table. As I grew older, people started to ask me where I was from, perhaps mistaking politeness for a "posh accent". It was only when I arrived in London that I realised, judging by the ease of which I settled in to the Langham Hotel that politeness was a language I could speak fluently, and how deeply ingrained my well-mannered and gracious grandmother's lessons truly are.

The Langham has reigned in London since 1865. Ladies in dainty pink skirt suits flutter around, matching the roses in the lobby that are replaced as often as possible lest the flowers begin to droop. The hotel is in the world-renowned West End on Regent St and the nearest tube station is at Oxford Circus where the Central, Bakerloo and Victoria lines meet. The hotel has 380 rooms, all of which combine Victorian charm with discreet modern amenities and brilliant service you barely need to ask for, or see. I found rose macarons beside my bed whenever I fancied one, and to this day it is a mystery how they continued to appear, yet I never saw the person responsible for their existence.

The Langham is also home to three of London's highly regarded dining experiences: the classic and elegant Roux at the Landau; the chic Artesian Bar and Langham London's crown jewel, Palm Court, which is so pretty it glitters. If I was Odysseus exploring London, Palm Court would be the home of the Lotus-Eaters.

The room is an Aladdin's Cave of afternoon tea. It buzzes - in a very civilised way - as the creme de la creme, or those who want to be, indulge in, well, cream mostly. Sandwiches (with the crusts cut off, thank you) are carefully filled with delightful combinations: cucumber with cream cheese and chives to smoked mountain ham with Comte cheese and white truffle oil.

There are, of course, scones served with Devonshire clotted cream and strawberry preserve, and a selection of pastries and cakes painstakingly shaped into beautiful teapots and cameos by chef Cherish Finden. Palm Court has its own Wedgwood china, and a menu of tea blended especially for guests.

The delicacies of the Wedgwood afternoon tea cost £47 ($108) a person and it's worth a visit whether you're staying at the Langham or not.

The National Theatre hoards a bewildering array of props. Photo / Patricia Greig

For a little more cavorting and a little less tea and cake, a backstage tour of the National Theatre is a brilliantly interactive way to spend an afternoon. The building, designed by Denys Lasdun in 1976, has just undergone a $1.2 billion upgrade. On the South Bank of the Thames, the theatre is easy to get to from Waterloo Station and market stalls line the path if you need more to look at than the legendary view. The National Theatre has been redesigned to sync with the riverside, revamping the South Bank as a tourist destination. Fascinatingly, behind the safety curtain of the three main stages guests can see sets, costumes and props in use and being constructed. In bridging the gap between reality and drama, all the world is certainly a stage and no two tours are ever the same.

From backstage to taking in a show, really taking it up a few (hundred) levels would mean venturing to the right place in the West End.

The Savoy is hosting Gypsy the Musical, which first appeared in 1959 on Broadway and features music by Jule Styne and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim. Gypsy is set to continue at the Savoy Theatre until November 28 of this year, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness the spectacle, and I can't recommend it highly enough. Loosely based on the memoirs of famous striptease artist Gypsy Rose Lee, never have I seen a show that is such a triumph for emotional and sexual pizzazz; even the orchestra oozed it with such force it was tormentingly good.

Spectacles are funny things, you certainly don't want to make one of yourself, but to experience an encounter with a visual spectacle is a primal urge. A list of spectacles encountered can grow day by day in London, and visiting the Victoria and Albert Museum's Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty, is particularly encouraging. The show spans the years between his 1992 MA graduate collection to his unfinished A/W 2010 collection.

Admiring the Victorian-esque tailoring McQueen learned at Givenchy, to the politics behind his use of tartan in his Highland Rape collection, there is an intriguing air of morbidity as you explore the McQueen underworlds. A bewitching soundscape and captivating visuals ensure that the viewer is well and truly hypnotised. My eyes could not have possibly been wider than they were exploring the Cabinet of Curiosities. This treasury contains a plethora of accessories, shoes and armour.

It's truly a McQueen cathedral, whispering warm-breathed reminders of the Czech Sedlec Ossuary inside my ears, but it is 10 times larger and its spines are dripping with gold.

The ever-controversial McQueen once said, "I don't want to do a cocktail party, I'd rather people left my shows and vomited." Disappointingly, there were no piles of sick in the gift shop. Nor were there outside at the feet of the marble ghosts resting deep in the caverns of the museum. I was so inspired by my exploration and new understanding of the word visionary. I hope McQueen can forgive me from wherever he is.

The writer at Buckingham Palace. Photo / Patricia Greig

The gothic inclinations of politely elegant London took me in and curled me up as close as possible to the city's bosom.

There I was held, wrapped tightly in plush blankets, atop a Langham bed so tall I could dangle my legs above the floor as I chewed on my rose macarons, completely content and admiring the world.

CHECKLIST

Getting there: Emirates flies daily to Gatwick, London, via its Dubai hub.

The writer travelled courtesy of VisitBritain.