Le Poussin restaurant at Whitley Ridge Hotel, Brockenhurst. Yum Yum!

I realise that if you read my previous post 'The Lunch', you will have been left positively sleepless at night, wondering how it went; but please understand that those of us who dine in Michelin starred restaurants cannot, nay will not, be rushed!

So- how was it? Well, let me tell you my Dah-lings, everything about the day was absolutely bluddy MAH-VEL-LOUS!

From the polite Frenchman who spotted John and I dithering outside and charmingly invited us in (we were early. We were intimidated. And I was carrying a plastic carrier. They probably thought I was a bag lady and wanted me quickly out of sight); to the smiling Jaeger-clad lady who helpfully took my very obviously not-Jaeger coat; the deep pile carpets; the thick white table linen; the sparkling glasses and shining silverware; the nicely fawning MaitreD'; for Heaven's sake, there was even a man with a small silver brush and pan to sweep up the crumbs on the table in between courses (not round me, obviously. There were none. There never are.).

And on top of all this- the lovely staff made me feel completely at ease. That must be the mark of a truly first-class establishment. It was wonderful.

The food was excellent, too. But honestly, I really do believe that with a good cookbook, a decent kitchen and some quality ingredients, I could turn out food of equal flavour, or at least fairly close; not as prettily perhaps, but just as good. With some practice, of course. Well, maybe a lot of practice.

I suppose that's the heart of the matter, isn't it? The food must be good, but it's the service that takes you to a different world. It's like turning left on the plane instead of right. Economy was always all right, but Business is just, oh, so much better.

I think I am a ruined woman.

Here's what I had to eat:

To start: A thimbleful of delicious caulifower soup. OK, it was bigger than that; but not by much. And it wasn't called soup. But that's what it was. It came with a teaspoon to eat it! I nearly fell off my chair. For this I wore a skirt with an elastic waistband?

Next, A slab of pate, with a thick buttery crust on top. Again, not called pate. It was served with fried brioche. Truly a heart attack on a plate. It was all amazing. I demolished it.

For my main course, steamed fillet of cod with an herb topping, served on crushed peas with a dollop of the best mashed potatoes I ever had in my entire life, and as some of you know, that's a whole lot of spuds we're talking about.

Dessert: now here I shall surprise you. Indeed, I surprised myself. I declined dessert. But they brought me a scoop of rhubarb sorbet anyway. " To keep you busy, Madame" the waiter smilingly explained. Sure. What he probably meant was, " OK, you have this- now leave everyone else's puddings alone". Hmmm. Who told him?

And all washed down with some superb wine, chosen by mine host.

Ahhh, it's a life I could get used to.