I’m standing at the mini bar of The Marylebone Suite in London, and my eye is caught by a rare sight for the UK capital.
In front of me is a tray of Barry’s Tea, their gold and red jackets hard to miss on the shiny marble countertop. A staple of every Irish kitchen press, I gasp in delight. I’m just five minutes’ walk from Oxford Street, but as I reach to brew my favourite cuppa, I could be back at a friend’s house in the suburbs of Dublin.
That is, if my friend lived in a house with a rooftop terrace, a whirlpool bath and a high-end Julian Chichester dining table.
