Hotel hit squad The Lanesborough

Theatre is everywhere at this London grande dame – especially when it comes to children, says Hattie Garlick

Ten years ago, I was being wheeled into hospital, about to have my first baby. I knew, even then, that this would all be worth it; I would soon be introduced to my very own, personal, bartender.

As soon as my son could walk, I’d teach him how to mix the perfect martini. Then, every evening until he left home, I would collapse onto a regency chaise (for I would also, by this stage, own furniture that hadn’t hailed from a ring-road superstore) and a child would appear consolingly at my elbow, with a cocktail shaker and an olive on a stick.

A decade on, both my interior design and parenting ambitions are finally being realised. Granted, the chaise is not mine. It belongs to the Lanesborough, a neoclassical Knightsbridge mansion once home to an eponymous Earl, now to 93 rooms and suites, a butler for each, chandeliers, trompel’oeil, gold leaf and the biggest collection of 18th-century artwork outside a museum. Minimalism be damned. Theatre is everywhere here, especially in the hotel’s attitude towards children.

The Lanesborough has some of the finest activities for this picky species of guest. And they don’t kettle them into far-away kids’ clubs. They welcome them into the inner workings of the hotel. The head pastry chef will teach small guests how to decorate cakes, in his own working kitchen. The butler team will teach tail-coated children how to serve their parents breakfast in bed. The award-winning barman will give them a masterclass in mocktail mixology, leading them through a warren of pantries to the mahogany panelling of the Library Bar.

Which is all wildly, extravagantly wonderful. But also fractionally nailbiting when your seven-year-old is wielding a cocktail shaker like a grenade and… oh God, is that an actual Joshua Reynolds casually positioned behind her, unguarded by glass?

I’m consoled by the fact that our tutor, Mickael Perron, closely resembles James Bond and appears every bit as cool as he talks the children through the “DNA” of a successful drink, encouraging them to taste a selection of teas from which to make a syrup base, mix it with lemon juice, shake it at just the right angle with a fruit juice and ice, sieve it, garnish it and… OK, so no vodka as yet but given that the last drink they made me had (I still suspect) some actual mud in it, this is as close to my dream as I am ever likely to get. Bliss.

The next day, a head waiter takes them through breakfast service in the Celeste dining room, where a few guests are still lolling over coffees under powder-blue, Wedgwoodinspired friezes and the celestial glassdomed ceiling. The children tie their own Windsor knot, then learn to shake a tablecloth with a flourish and lay the perfect mise en place – knife blade facing the diner, please; champagne glass at exactly 45 degrees to the water glass.

I’m not unaware of the irony here. While I would happily turn these new skills to remunerative advantage if the law allowed, it seems unlikely that most child guests will ever require such practical competencies. The Lanesborough’s Royal Suite is one of London’s most expensive (from an eye-watering £25,000 a night). At one point, my husband accidentally journeys up to the wrong floor and is immediately pivoted back inside the lift by private security.

Even on our own, unguarded, floor, the children’s bed is canopied in heavy pink silk and topped with a crystal chandelier. A butler brings them hot chocolate in silver tea pots. Down in the temple-quiet spa (where children are welcomed into the bijou, infinity hydropool for a timetabled hour each day), another butler plies them with small robes and warm towels. At supper (where children are welcomed but eat from the Michelin-starred adult menu) I experience momentary cardiac arrest on realising their starter of crab is topped with caviar and gold leaf.

In our rooms, in addition to the small slippers and branded teddy bears that are offered to over-privileged kids across the world, there are fabulous touches such as pillow cases they can colour in themselves, and a surprise treasure hunt that appears after supper, guiding us from scroll to scroll and ending with the discovery of a personal popcorn machine and movies.

Only you can decide whether lavishing this level of luxury on children makes your stomach turn or your soul soar. But should you with to turn the luxury up to 11, this is the place to do it.

From £1,195 for a family of four, including breakfast