Among the personal accomplishments one might want to pass on to one’s children — how to sail a boat, speak a foreign language, support a decent football club — few are more useful than giving the nippers a working knowledge of London’s grand hotels. And they don’t get much grander than Claridge’s: the hotel was not only the scene of Kate Moss’s 30th birthday party, but was even a country for a day on July 17, 1944, when Winston Churchill declared it Yugoslavia so that Crown Prince Alexander II could be born there and qualify as a legitimate ruler.

Even so, it was with an air of trepidation that I agreed to allow my two oldest children, aged 13 and 11, to join me for the first night of a two-night stay. For a start, the room was so lovely that I did not want it sullied by teenagers in trainers. Claridge’s is where you can live like a duke, but what duke worth his salt would want to share his room with his children? They should be off with the Scottish nanny.

Our Art Deco room was large, with pale blue walls the colour of seagull eggs. The bathroom was magical. The bath — the size of a small lido — fills up in seconds without a sound. Once inside the bath there are two pulleys, one for the maid and one for a valet.

“What’s a valet?” my daughter asked. “And why would you want one in your bath?” “Ask your mother,” I replied.

It was strangely thrilling to speculate that I was in the same bath as Kate Moss, even if she had got out of it a year or so earlier.

The room was soundproofed so the only thing that kept me awake was the snoring of my son. The staff were helpful, but discreet: it’s as if they were enjoying their own weekend break. When no internet connection seemed to be available, they directed me to the business centre. It’s not actually a business centre but a cupboard with a computer in it that demands you enter your credit card details before you touch the mouse. A duke wouldn’t be seen dead there.

It is customary to sample the restaurant on these visits, but I was fearful of running into Gordon Ramsay, and having packed my children off back to Wandsworth, I wanted some peace and quiet. So I ordered room service. Pea and mint soup, followed by pigeon and a half bottle of decent claret, is the ideal end to a day. The former Yugoslavia is a grand place to stay, and even better once the children have gone home.

Bottom line: Rupert Wright paid £285 for his deluxe double room.

Need to know: Claridge’s (020-7629 8860, www.claridges.co.uk), Brook Street, London W1.

What we think: Fit for a duke.

Sampling the fare: Room service dinner was great. Breakfast the next morning was good, but service unnecessarily complicated by a number of women running around, none of whom was able to take my order, directing me instead to the manager, who eventually came over to take it. And was charmless.

Access all areas: Yes.

Room: 9 out of 10.

Food: 7 out of 10.

Service: 8 out of 10 Breakfast service: 3 out of 10.

Value: 8 out of 10.

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