I experienced the worst food in a London club ever, when taken to Home House for dinner this week by a corporate member. My asparagus was hard and far too cold. My lamb was horribly greasy. There was no way I would risk a pudding. I thought the loos were quite good though.
It seemed to me that lingering about in the various reception rooms were a lot of London's office workers who seem to think, by the way passing people are checked out, that this is the place to meet their future partners. Apart from a lively bar in the garden and a private party, the entire place reminded me of a mausoleum. The building is as grim as the food. I was offered the opportunity to become a member. I politely declined.
- Home Hotel London
