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Reaching for the stars inKensington

There are three ways to reach for the stars in Kensington.

And, believe me, I’ve tried them all.

Way One: You can do what everybody does, sashay from Celebrity Corner to Harrods and you’ll

see’m … the posers and the pompous and the beautiful. Norman Lamont, Tony Benn and Davina

McColl, I spotted them.

An impatient Julia Carling even ruffled my coat feathers with her fender as she whisked passed

me outside Christies.

Way Two: Spend a few quid and buy yourself a half of lager in one of the many hotels in the area

and wait for them to pass by. They will do, you’ll see’m.

Katrina doesn’t walk on sunshine any more but causes a wave of recognition as she sweeps

through the bars. She’s around there all the time, looking for a hotel to open, or anything… even

an envelope will do.

Way Three: Do what I did.

I went straight to the top and persuaded Mr Joep Peeters, boss of the Holiday Inn – the tallest

hotel in Europe - to show me the view from his roof.



This guy is star-struck alrighty. First he did a little name dropping as he took me on a tour of the

conference rooms – the Dylan suite, the Hendrix suite, the Madonna and the Holliday.

Then he led me to the lift where we stood in obligatory silence as we watched the floors flash by,

3, 4, 5, 6 – 23, 24, 25 - 26 … and finally ‘top of the world ma’. Floor 27.

Well, it was a little after midnight and the sky was as sparkling as a black diamond. The air wasas spicy as crystal.

There was a gentle breeze and the Holiday Inn swayed perceptibly.

“If it didn’t, it would fall down,” Joep said without a hint of irony or fear. “We’re the tallest hotel

in the EC and we’ve got 910 rooms. We rock you to sleep on the top ten floors,” at that he

cracked a grin.

Actually the top floor is given over to crews for American Airlines. He could see the irony in that

too.

In May 2000 the hotel started a refurbishment which went on for four years. Two phases have been completed, including 366 bedrooms, a new reception area and a new concept in dining, the

Consortia restaurant.

But this really is the place to reach for the stars – right up there, on the roof. I felt like I could takehome a pocket-ful of moon beams. I’ve been closer to the stars – but Mont Blanc just doesn’t

have the facilities of a Holiday Inn.

London sparkled beneath me like a fallen Christmas tree. Lights spilled and danced as far as you

dared to see. Battersea Power Station was an up-turned neon table, The Dome was a giant

inflatable fat-bodied spider and the London Eye blinked as it made its last rotation of the night.

Down to earth again and The Pub was serving after hours: “It’s allowed to of course,” the ever- present and correct Joep told me, as if I cared. Not many hotels of this calibre have their own pub,

but this one does, complete with leather armchairs and roaring log fires.

Well, only a few minor celebs to report … a glamorous exec from OK magazine was flashing a

diamond as big as a cyst on her elegant finger, an Antipodean cable TV king was trying to sign

up some Lovejoy lookalike. But that was it.

Next day I missed breakfast and headed for brunch in the The Forum Room carvery. Now that’s a

place to eat with a price tag of only about £27.

This holiday Inn has its hidden gems all over this 1970s elongated box, it’s legendary conference

rooms, the roof, The Pub and not least the carvery with joints of meat as big as small carsspinning on industrial-sized rotisseries. It’s all served by staff who smile so well they would

make Americans ashamed.

The jazz band in the corner and the table troubadours add a vaguely eccentric touch of class.

And there she was – late-night networking – Katrina. Despite her Liam Gallagher parkha and her

new elfin hairstyle, she looked elegant as she huddled at the log fire, deep in conversation with

her new image consultant.

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