A rural retreat in Pall Mall

As the country came to London yesterday to march in protest against the Government, I decided to find a hotel in Pall Mall where I might have a good view of events.

I had also heard of a new establishment in the area which was supposed to have brought a genuine rustic touch to this most stuffy area of central London. Thus, I deemed it eminently apposite to find out what happens when a countryside hotel comes to the city.

The Sofitel St James is a Grade II listed building that resembles a small rural mansion. My companion, Jennifer, from deepest Wiltshire, and I entered through a huge space covered in bowers and pots of roses and other greenery. The walls were hung with paintings of rural scenes, including those in the lift.

To the left of the reception area was the Rose Lounge, decorated entirely in shades of pink and an oil painting of a lady carrying roses. There were yet more flowers and a traditional country English tea was on offer - only with a slight difference. Albert Roux provides the pastries.

As it was after teatime, however, we went up to our room. It was simple, white, spacious, yet with all the latest technology, including DVD and a state-of-the-art bathroom, with a checked marble floor and two showers. The bed was large and extremely comfortable, the lighting so discreet that Jennifer, who is short-sighted, kept tripping over the furniture until I ordered her to sit down in one of the comfy chairs.

She complained I had made her feel as nervous as a skittish horse and needed a drink. She always needs a drink anyway; as a good country lass she is used to a stiff one after a long day in the saddle.

I took her down to the bar which was full of yet more roses and pictures of 18th century country gentlemen. Yet it managed to avoid pomposity by its ultra modern chairs and tables and soft music playing in the background.

As the hotel has a pink flowery theme, the bar staff, dressed all in lilac, suggested we drink the hotel's pink champagne at £8, which I found an excellent price for London. It came chilled and in a satisfyingly large glass. I noticed that the clientele were young, earthy looking and all smoking cigarettes. No annoying antiseptic measures were taken to stop even the enjoyment of cigars.

Fearing that Jennifer would drink me out of house and home, I suggested we go to the hotel's Brasserie Roux, a new venture by the fabled chef. It, too, had a rustic theme, with baskets of corn below oil paintings of horses and farm animals.

The food, however, was more sophisticated than you would find in most country houses. The wine list was extensive, but reasonably priced, with whites starting at £19 for a very drinkable Sauvignon and red at £14.50 for a Domaine de Bergerie.

For my starter I chose a smoked haddock tart with a poached egg on top and Jennifer had a foie gras roulade. Both were succulent and my egg was cooked to perfection. On piercing it with my fork the yolk gushed out to greet the crisp pastry. I had decided on truffle risotto as a main course. The rice was of a perfect consistency and there was none of the usual stinting on the truffles.

For dessert we shared a summer pudding, a good test of any restaurant. Too often the bread covering is either dry or soggy to the point of collapse. But the brasserie excelled itself. It was like eating a piquant souffle.

The whole dinner, with wine and water, came to just over £58, a rare price indeed for a London restaurant of such high quality. Delighted with our find, we went up to bed and began planning breakfast. There were all sorts of fruits on offer in various forms, as well as home-made pastries and a traditional English breakfast including kippers, steak (which the landed classes ate in Dr Johnson's day for their morning repast) and grilled tomatoes. I ordered a ham omelette.

The following morning when breakfast came it included pain au chocolat, pain au raisin, apple chausson and croissant of the most superior quality. As a treat I drank a hot chocolate, which was not the usual anaemic concoction but strong and rich.

Downstairs at reception the staff were rearranging yet more flowers. Eliza Doolittle would have loved it. She might have managed the bill as well, which, including dinner and breakfast, came to £317, including VAT.

The country had indeed come to London.

The Sofitel St James, 6 Waterloo Place, SW1Y 4AN, 020 7747 2200; 186 rooms. £184/£269 including VAT and breakfast.