Portrait of the Carlton Club – William, London

The Carlton Club is one of the most conservative, prestigious and lavish clubs; or as they would say ‘one of London’s foremost members-only clubs’. And by some absolute miracle, the Penang Swimming Club (which we are members of), has some connections with the Carlton Club – which enabled us to look around this superior venue. Although we had permission to pop into the Carlton, we still needed decent formal attire – and this of course meant that we needed to spend an absolute fortune on fine clothing; but the lightning of fortuity struck once again upon our heads: coincidentally one of my father’s friends had suits which impeccably fitted me and my dad (which were once for their children a few years back.) This only left Richard – because it was extremely hard to get untailored suits which would fit him – we decided to give him a full tailored suit and trousers which were dyed pale blue – suitable for a formal portrait!

After all that preparation, the rabbits were ready to jump into the lion’s den – we set upon our peregrination to the Carlton Club. After reaching the venue, we met with my dad’s cousin and her husband (Zelinda and Martin). After briefly exchanging a few hugs to introduce ourselves, we took strides towards the entrance – the doors automatically swung upon – and, to my surprise, we were not grunted forwards by a curmudgeon, but instead a rather congenial fellow, who warmly greeted us and benevolently suggested that Zelinda’s shoes looked ‘a remote bit too sporty I’m afraid’. As she changed shoes in the locker down the corridor, we looked around at the thick embellished carpet and the intricately papered walls fortified by painted wooden beams; the velvet curtains hung over the windows like silky waterfalls frozen in place. This interior gave the impression of a ponderous and cavernly place. The somewhat oppressive feeling was reinforced by my unfamiliar and constrictive suit and tie. Yet, despite this superficial discomfort, a contrary impression of heavenly pleasure won out – the peculiar savour of opulence! After Zelinda came back with dark shiny shoes, we strode down the over-decorated hallway. In front of us lay a stairway which split into two mirrored ascending arcs, both lined by prominent portraits – including a soft and kindly one of the Queen Mother at the top.

We propelled ourselves up the soft blue steps to reach a junction; to the left was the dining area, and to the right was the drawing room; we decided to enter the drawing room to sip tea and chat together. There, we sat on a chaise longue under a portrait of Queen Mary. This was one of the first times I have sat down with a full suit and tie – so I did not know the custom of unbuttoning your suit every time you sit down (fortunately, no one noticed). We were one of the first people to enter the drawing room. There was only an aged man reading the newspaper while sipping a gin and tonic. We looked around at the effulgent ceiling. There was an authentic fireplace next to us which warmed us up quite comfortably. 

After some pleasant conversation, a waiter came up to us and asked if we would like to have something – we decided that we would like a big pot of tea. “A suitably voluminous pot of English Breakfast tea please,” my dad replied. The waiter backed off in an agile fashion and vanished. We all continued to get more relaxed; my Dad and Zelinda commenced to laugh out loud at the japes that they made. I was a bit embarrassed by their jokes, but fortunately the extreme thickness of the walls and carpet dampened the jolly sounds drastically. When we had finished the whole pot of tea we’d ordered, it was slightly past six which meant the dining room had opened. Before moving rooms though, a waiter came over and handed us the menus. My brother and I saw chicken tikka masala, leaving no other option. When we entered the dining room, we were once again awed by the sheer splendour that burst into our vision. Yet more famous portraits looked down upon us, and finally we ate under a portrait of The Duke of Wellington. 

Needless to say, the meal was magnificent and left me with a fond memory of a place I had never seen before.