A journalist among judges

I have watched Bridgerton. I have enjoyed it and, dear reader, I feel I lived it a little this week.

The lord mayor’s judges’ dinner was held at Mansion House last Tuesday - delayed from its usual summer date thanks to the general election. The thought of something so far removed from this journalist’s everyday life, plus the potential for free food, meant there was no hesitation in accepting the invite.

After Googling exactly what white tie entailed, I brought a dress, forced my feet into some heels, stuck some lipstick on, and off I went. This is one occasion where there is no fear of being overdressed.

After passing security, I tried to resist the temptation to forego etiquette, and probably all sorts of security restrictions, and go and explore. Climbing thick patterned carpeted stairs with pikemen and musketeers on guard (and looking wonderful), we waited to be announced. 

I thought of The Princess Diaries and that episode of The Office US where Dwight hosts a garden party (season 8, episode 4, I’d recommend). This was something between the two.

Lord chancellor Shabana Mahmood came up behind me as I waited my turn and I quickly let her go ahead. It gave me time to banish thoughts of me tripping and flying across the room to land at the mayor’s feet. As my name was shouted out, the pikemen hit their poles on the ground. I jumped, tried not to think about if that act would damage the floors, and shook hands with the mayor and mayoress.

VIPs, think the lady chief justice and aforementioned lord chancellor, were taken to the left and the rest of us were led to the right to mingle. There were three canapes: a meat one, maybe beef, which I politely declined but did look lovely. A little salmon thing which tasted so fresh I could have taken the entire tray, sat in the corner, and eaten them all while admiring my surroundings. Finally, a goats cheese pastry which was so good I ate four of them (not at the same time).

Dinner started shortly after in the Egyptian Hall (pictured above). The room is impressive. Huge white columns, a wrap around balcony (from which an orchestra played throughout dinner), beautiful statues in gold recesses, and stained-glass windows. It all felt very surreal.

Space at the table was tight but I was also about to eat a three-course meal in a room that made me feel I was either in a film or had travelled back in time, so no complaints here. 

The bugle confirmed I had indeed gone through the looking glass as we all stood waiting to take our seats. Then, as the mayor and other guests started to walk in, a slow clap began. Not applause but a slow continous clap as if we too had become part of the musical accompaniment. I tried not to worry.

We sat and the food arrived. A mackerel Ballantine starter, a vegan risotto for non-meat eaters or a beef fillet bordelaise, pressed short rib with a white onion puree, candied swede and charred sprouts and tops and then, to finish, a salted honey tart. All delicious. The risotto deserves a special shout out. It took everything in me not to ask where they had got their vegan cheese.

After that came port, coffee and chocolate which hit the spot. The toasts followed. The national anthem played, and we toasted to the royals, the judges and the lord mayor and lady mayoress. I had run out of alcohol by then so toasted with water.

Finally, the speeches. Most warmly received were the lady chief justice’s revelations about her own family links to Mansion House - her father lived there as an eight-year-old and played football with his brother in the very hall in which we were sitting. 

I left with my head on swivel trying to take in as much of the detail of the place as I could, a menu under my arm, and my nameplate in my bag (souvenirs, you would have done the same). As I stepped outside, I felt I’d returned from another world, but there’s nothing like the commute home to remind you what reality is. Final thanks goes to the mayor’s office for the invite and to TfL for keeping me humble.