Jolly good, darling. Pass the cream?

Spending the last 6 years of my life in England has given me the chance to truly appreciate, and somewhat fall in love, with many an English tradition. For example, like my good friends Will and Harry, I spent ample time at everyone's favourite night club in London, in the wee hours of the morning, with my head stuck in a giant-sized wooden treasure chest filled to the brim with let's say, oh, I don't know, 8 different types of alcohol. I have grown to treasure the use of delightfully conversational English - "innit?" being a favourite, closely followed by "Hiyaaaaa!" and "Awright?". I spent many a winter morning smiling peacefully and occasionally cheering in delight (like all Brits do) as the entire Central line closed down once again because there was a snow flake on the track in Leytonstone, a mere 30 stops away.

But nothing surpasses my love for an English tradition more than the introduction of the heavenly and somewhat elitist tradition of High Tea. More accurately, The Scone. Oh, The Scone. How I love thee so. Fluffy but dense, sweet but savoury. Lashings of clotted cream and glugs of jam. Can you taste it??

Hong Kong, being an English colony, has made some valiant attempts to cotton on to The Scone.  Cotton on to The Scone. Love a rhyme. And being a Tai Tai with a recent English 'history', if you can call it that, I thought it would be only right of me to do my due diligence and test out how well they've actually cottoned on.....to The Scone. Snap.

The most well-renowned place for High Tea in Hong Kong is The Peninsula, a grand old building close to the harbour on the Dark Side of town, which completely and utterly reflects the flamboyant English hedonism that flourished in this city all those years ago. After entering the grand doorway, you are quite suddenly transported to a time where pleasure, comfort and class are all encompassing. The rather exquisite individual velvet-lined arm chairs are inviting to say the least, as are the deep mahogany tables, the 'tinking' sound of teaspoons and sparkling silver cake stands. The ambience was relaxed and fancy at the same time. Excitedly we moved through the foyer and found the location to line up for a table. We saw a line of, say 40 people, shrugged and ambled patiently along to the end of the line. We came to what we thought was the end only to find that it curved around the corner, and another corner and another corner, and then another corner. Until it ended. Approximately 2 metres from the back exit onto the street. Brilliant. We should hardly have been surprised about the queue. We were in a quintessentially British residence after all. And we all know how the British love a queue.

Well, us Aussies? We don't. After waiting all of 2 minutes in what was said to be at least an hour wait, we decided to jump ship and head across the road for afternoon tea at the Intercontinental instead. And although the interiors weren't quite as decadent, and the ambiance not quite as grand, the view was spectacular and The Scone......superb. There was even a guy with a security ear-piece on. And rightly so. Because if anyone even came remotely close to MY scone while I was in my happy-dreamy-you-can-do-no-wrong-scone-place, there would be a very, very, VERY serious price to pay.....

Needless to say, I'm still coming down off the sugar high, but I really don't care. Because the only thing that really matters after the whole experience, is that, thankfully, Hong Kong has well and truly (wait for it).......cottoned on.... to The Scone.