Afternoon tea

Apparently it was a duchess (Anna, Duchess of Bedford) who invented the tradition of afternoon tea to help her through the longueurs of the eighteenth century. “A sinking feeling” around four or five could be staved off by having tea and some light snacks brought to her room.
Its place in English culture is undisputed, but for the Anglo-Irish it could be seen as even more emblematic. Allegedly those taking tea in the Shelbourne Hotel during the Easter Rising in 1916 were so unmoved by the bloody events taking place outside that only when a stray shot hit a clock in the hotel drawing room did they retire to another room at the back of the hotel. This story demonstrates nicely both the attractive aspects of the culture (there is something admirable in this impeturbability and how could you not like people whose main ritual centres round tea and cake?) and their extraordinary distance from the vast majority of people in their country.
In literature, the two best afternoon tea scenes are in the same play, also by an Anglo-Irishman, Oscar Wilde. The first scene established forever the centrality of cucumber sandwiches to the meal, while the second is an invaluable demonstration of the use of polite ritual to be unforgivably rude. I am of course talking about The Importance of Being Earnest - if you are not familiar with this work of genius, I recommend the film with Edith Evans.
My maternal grandparents held the meal in great respect, with a Victoria sponge baked every day and usually fed to the Pekes - at least when I attended; I’ve never cared much for cake and it was a great treat to watch the dogs perform their tricks for the jam-filled reward.
Now most hotels with any pretensions to style will serve afternoon tea. In Dublin, the Shelbourne’s offering has been superceded by that of the Merrion, which is delicious and vastly overgenerous, as well as being consumed in saloons decorated with an excellent collection of Irish art, while being regaled by a harpist.
In London, I used to take tea at the Cadogan Hotel (site of Oscar Wilde’s arrest) when looking for a rendezvous, delighted by the cucumber sandwiches and white-gloved, white-haired butler, but it is a little bit out of my usual circuit, so I am experimenting with alternatives.
Claridges is famous for its afternoon tea, but it is fabulously expensive, so it makes champagne seem like a cheap option. The restaurant at the top of the National Portrait Gallery has a wonderful view but the tea is made with tea-bags, the cake is too cloying and the sandwiches lack the delicacy that luxury requires.
I will keep you posted on further research.