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Beachcomber (May Fair Hotel), London, England (restaurant) |
atomictonytiki
Grand Member (first year) 
Joined: May 14, 2002
Posts: 1267
From: Bangkok
|  Posted: 2011-12-10 9:02 pm Permalink
Ah, The Beachcomber and criminals, it's my cherished hope to find a picture of the Kray Twins in the Beachcomber as they claimed Mayfair as part of their criminal empire in the sixties.
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dylanesq
Member
Joined: Mar 01, 2012
Posts: 2 | Posted: 2012-03-01 5:29 pm Permalink
Thrilled all to hell to see this page !!!
In the winter of 1965/6, prior to my departure from London as an emigrant to Canada, I was approached by the sister of my best friend, Andy Gardiner, a friend who was tragically killed in an automobile accident in Cambridgeshire.
Dinah said that she was coming down (from Skegness) to the City and would like to see me. (I should point out that it is a strange phenomenon that the women related to the deceased seem attracted to a best friend such as I for his girlfriend also made a move on me -actually proposed to me !)
Anyway I thought I would treat Dinah (then about 20) to a night on the town and made reservations for the theater and for the Beachcomber.I was actually very familiar with the Beachcomber as I had interned at the Mayfair Hotel in 1960 as part of my management studies at Westminster Technical College Hotel School, although I had never seen the club in night time operation.
Following the theater I hailed a cab and we were soon taking off our coats and descending into the tropics that was the Beachcomber where, as prearranged, we were seated right next to the 'pool' , a corner of the club where a very realistic jungle scene was set up, complete with live baby crocs, turtles 'frolicking' motionlessly in the jungle atmosphere.
We must have had a cocktail followed by a curry, if I recall. tho' after 47 years it could easily have been something else. Soon I was pullling out Dinah's chair and escorting her to the postage stamp dance floor and, taking her in my arms. we moved to enticing Hawaiian rhythms.
Sitting enjoying our coffee and Kahlua our attention was drawn to the tropical scene next to us by an awareness that it had cooled off considerably and a breeze had struck up. The birds had stopped singing.Clouds began to move across the sun and there was a gust of wind followed by a darkening sky. We jumped at the first crack of thunder and the terrapins and crocs scurried under the 'leaves' of overhanging vegetation.It begins to rain..first a few drips and then increasing to a steady pour..there is a definite dampness in the air and the wind roars as the lightning flashes and soon a full fledged tropical storm is in progress !! The perfectly timed lights in the restaurant had dimmed helping create a very, very realistic and fantastic, perfectly timed audio visual 'event', one possibly at the zenith of the craft for those days and definitely a thrill for two youngsters who, after the storm had subsided and the bill been paid, struggled into their jackets and made their way out into the mild London midnight !
This could have been Paris as romance was definitely in the air by this time, but it was good old 1960s London and ,hand in hand, we strolled as romantically as any 'français'. At some point we stopped and, embracing, kissed gently, then passionately,strolled a few more feet and repeated the process many times, totally unaware of our surroundings and lost in the warmth of our embraces.
This continued slowly as we headed up Park Lane to the Dorchester. As we strolled I became aware of an increasingly painful lower back, probably exacerbated by a long day's work working at the famous Henekey's wine shop, added to by the dancing but most definitely brought to the high level of pain by a by now permanent state of male arousal !!
We pushed through the swing doors of the Dorchester and, hand in hand, approached the highly polished,brass doors of the lift (elevator)where, awkwardly, unbelievably, yet absolutely necessarily I demurred at her invitation to 'come up to the room'. i left her breaking into choking tears as the lift doors closed and , by now in intense pain,I struggled outside, walked thirty yards down the street and flopped down on the kerb with my feet in the gutter as i tried to regain some semblance of composure before tracking down a bus, collapsing on the subway and heading home to my freezing cold bedsitter.
I can hear you exclaiming at my lack of creativity and opportunism and it does truly pains me to look back and consider what wonders might have awaited me up on the luxurious 5th floor bedroom of the Dorchester and yet, in hindsight, I probbaly would have sired a child that night once my libido had dulled the pain and the warmth of her body and delightful embraces had worked their charms but it was just not so.
Reality can be a bitch at times.Post reality imaginings such as these can be worse too. The reality for me was an immediate one. You might profer the concept that my body was protecting me from a potentially awkward situation. At that particular time I was already struggling to ignore the increasingly poorly timed advances by an appealing Irish woman, Clare, who I worked with, a married one at that. I was only successful at ignoring my starved sexual needs as i did not want anything to come between me and my upcoming April sea voyage to Canada. 'Tis true, I could have had my way and left a trail of personal destruction behind me but I guess the drive to explore the world and begin anew was more powerful. After 46 years 'over' here (and now a divorcee in the USA)all that remains is this story. Sigh......
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dylanesq
Member
Joined: Mar 01, 2012
Posts: 2 | Posted: 2012-03-01 5:33 pm Permalink
In the winter of 1965/6, prior to my departure from London as an emigrant to Canada, I was approached by the sister of my best friend, Andy Gardiner, a friend who was tragically killed in an automobile accident in Cambridgeshire.
Dinah said that she was coming down (from Skegness) to the City and would like to see me. (I should point out that it is a strange phenomenon that the women related to the deceased seem attracted to a best friend such as I for his girlfriend also made a move on me -actually proposed to me !)
Anyway I thought I would treat Dinah (then about 20) to a night on the town and made reservations for the theater and for the Beachcomber.I was actually very familiar with the Beachcomber as I had interned at the Mayfair Hotel in 1960 as part of my management studies at Westminster Technical College Hotel School, although I had never seen the club in night time operation.
Following the theater I hailed a cab and we were soon taking off our coats and descending into the tropics that was the Beachcomber where, as prearranged, we were seated right next to the 'pool' , a corner of the club where a very realistic jungle scene was set up, complete with live baby crocs, turtles 'frolicking' motionlessly in the jungle atmosphere.
We must have had a cocktail followed by a curry, if I recall. tho' after 47 years it could easily have been something else. Soon I was pullling out Dinah's chair and escorting her to the postage stamp dance floor and, taking her in my arms. we moved to enticing Hawaiian rhythms.
Sitting enjoying our coffee and Kahlua our attention was drawn to the tropical scene next to us by an awareness that it had cooled off considerably and a breeze had struck up. The birds had stopped singing.Clouds began to move across the sun and there was a gust of wind followed by a darkening sky. We jumped at the first crack of thunder and the terrapins and crocs scurried under the 'leaves' of overhanging vegetation.It begins to rain..first a few drips and then increasing to a steady pour..there is a definite dampness in the air and the wind roars as the lightning flashes and soon a full fledged tropical storm is in progress !! The perfectly timed lights in the restaurant had dimmed helping create a very, very realistic and fantastic, perfectly timed audio visual 'event', one possibly at the zenith of the craft for those days and definitely a thrill for two youngsters who, after the storm had subsided and the bill been paid, struggled into their jackets and made their way out into the mild London midnight !
This could have been Paris as romance was definitely in the air by this time, but it was good old 1960s London and ,hand in hand, we strolled as romantically as any 'français'. At some point we stopped and, embracing, kissed gently, then passionately,strolled a few more feet and repeated the process many times, totally unaware of our surroundings and lost in the warmth of our embraces.
This continued slowly as we headed up Park Lane to the Dorchester. As we strolled I became aware of an increasingly painful lower back, probably exacerbated by a long day's work working at the famous Henekey's wine shop, added to by the dancing but most definitely brought to the high level of pain by a by now permanent state of male arousal !!
We pushed through the swing doors of the Dorchester and, hand in hand, approached the highly polished,brass doors of the lift (elevator)where, awkwardly, unbelievably, yet absolutely necessarily I demurred at her invitation to 'come up to the room'. i left her breaking into choking tears as the lift doors closed and , by now in intense pain,I struggled outside, walked thirty yards down the street and flopped down on the kerb with my feet in the gutter as i tried to regain some semblance of composure before tracking down a bus, collapsing on the subway and heading home to my freezing cold bedsitter.
I can hear you exclaiming at my lack of creativity and opportunism and it does truly pains me to look back and consider what wonders might have awaited me up on the luxurious 5th floor bedroom of the Dorchester and yet, in hindsight, I probbaly would have sired a child that night once my libido had dulled the pain and the warmth of her body and delightful embraces had worked their charms but it was just not so.
Reality can be a bitch at times.Post reality imaginings such as these can be worse too. The reality for me was an immediate one. You might profer the concept that my body was protecting me from a potentially awkward situation. At that particular time I was already struggling to ignore the increasingly poorly timed advances by an appealing Irish woman, Clare, who I worked with, a married one at that. I was only successful at ignoring my starved sexual needs as i did not want anything to come between me and my upcoming April sea voyage to Canada. 'Tis true, I could have had my way and left a trail of personal destruction behind me but I guess the drive to explore the world and begin anew was more powerful. After 46 years 'over' here (and now a divorcee in the USA)all that remains is this story. Sigh......
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Trader Tom
Grand Member (5 years) 
Joined: Jan 26, 2006
Posts: 744
From: Hillsboro, OR
| Posted: 2012-07-06 11:29 pm Permalink
Just picked up this dish off of e-Bay:
I think I see this particular dish being served to a table in one of the earlier posted video links, but hard to tell what's in it. Maybe wontons or eggrolls?
More on these here on a previous thread:
http://www.tikiroom.com/tikicentral/bb/viewtopic.php?topic=41251&forum=5&hilite=restaurant%20ware
Here is the info I found on the maker:
Tuscan China
Production years: 1898 - 1970
The Tuscan China Plant was a manufacturing plant in Staffordshire County in west-central England. Because of its "Tuscan" name, it is sometimes mistakenly thought to be china made in the Tuscany section of northern Italy. After extensive research, Tuscan Works developed products for hotels called Metallised Hotel China; it was strong enough to resist plate fracturing and better than anything then available. When Wedgwood acquired R.H. & S.L. Plant Ltd. in 1970, it changed the name from Tuscan China to Royal Tuscan Fine Bone China. It was Tuscan Works' line of Metallised Hotel China that had especially attracted Wedgwood. The Tuscan Works plant closed in 2006.
[ This Message was edited by: Trader Tom 2012-07-07 02:20 ]
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Kon-Hemsby
Grand Member (8 years) 
Joined: Sep 17, 2003
Posts: 1225
From: Andover, England
| Posted: 2012-07-09 04:39 am Permalink
That is a really nice find. Congratulations.
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