Author Jonesy

Hotels
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“Stoke Place was built as a family residence in 1690, and little did they know that one day an enthusiastic hotelier would fill an entire wall with empty picture frames, paint the staircase a duck egg blue…”

Hotels Indigo
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“This round office had a view through three imposing windows, and the whole rummy thing was decorated like a luxury apartment; it wasn’t like an office at all!” Jonesy stays at the Morning Post’s former HQ…

Asian
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Jonesy revisits the Michelin-starred Indian restaurant Quilon at Buckingham Gate, where “flavours dance in harmony on the tongue while the stomach eagerly awaits their company”.

Hotels Hartwell House
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“I think it’s somewhere down there,” said Her Ladyship, raising her voice above the growling…

British Wright Brothers Soho
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“The Cumbraes were delectable, tantamount to standing on a seaside peer and having the refreshing surf sprayed into one’s face by a young scoundrel with a water-pistol.” Jonesy dines at Wright Brothers…

Musings
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“I could stab him with a cocktail stick! I’d go down in history as the man who attacked the Deputy Prime Minster with a buffet accessory.” Jonesy meets Nick Clegg in Whitehall. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…

London Restaurants Villalobos Carignan Reserva
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Jonesy selflessly braves the chill of a February weekend to humbly feast on lovingly tendered produce from the British Isles, while nobly sipping on fine natural wines in the pious private dining room at Corrigan’s Mayfair. Ahem.

Food
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Matthew Fort is serious about food; eating it, cooking it, writing about it. We dined at Bentley’s with the great man, to discuss his gluttonous career in food writing and television, from The Guardian to the Great British Menu.

Asian
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Prawn tak-a-tak; a dish with a name that you want to repeat over and over…

International
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Jonesy often goes to great lengths to avoid work in the name of a good meal out (which he insists is part of his job description), but now and then he finds that even his unrivalled gluttony takes some kick-starting…

Musings
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Merry festivities, and all that rot. In the spirit of The Arbuturian, we don’t look back but forwards, with a nod to the past and a healthy slurp of the here and now. Eat, drink, be merry. And no carols!

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