IT really began with the chicken sandwiches. My wife Lynne and I hadn't eaten a thing since our train whisked us silently, and first class, from Berwick Station, over the Royal Border Bridge towards Newcastle and through Durham. As we passed the cathedral and castle we were breakfasting on bacon and eggs. It was nearly lunch time as Kings Cross swallowed us up and a few minutes later a cab carried us to the streets of Mayfair and dropped us at 47 Park Street.

Through the Edwardian portico of the house, turned hotel, we were shown to one of the 52 suites that have been decorated under the watchful eye of Monique Roux. They are reached either by lift or iron staircase that arches past a series of superb Art Nouveau, peacock-blue and yellow windows to the sixth floor. Meanwhile, her husband Albert, internationally acclaimed chef and Maitre Cuisinier de France, has also brought a little influence to the place, for the dining room happens to be none other than Le Gavroche and from its kitchens comes the room service that brought us this most delicious and tastefully-served round of chicken sandwiches.

Over a silky 92 Chateau Lascombes claret from the famous parish of Margaux we planned the rest of our day. Our friend Christian had just flown in from Berlin to attend a Christie's special auction to help save the Atlantic salmon. He was hoping to buy one or two of the 74 lots, which included beautifully dressed salmon flies, rods and fishing trips. We promised to meet at the auction at 6pm and go on to Le Gavroche afterwards.

First a little shopping. Walking down New Bond Street we ogled Tiffanys and Aspreys, Cartier, Chanel, Gucci, Holland & Holland.

In the Burlington Arcade, Piccadilly, the patrolling beadle warned us that there is no whistling, hurrying or singing allowed. A rather over-smart, dead-pan shoe-shine boy, looking like a franchise operation, was at work.

In Fortnum and Mason's grocery department we got talking to Irishman Will Redmonds. Once a butcher and now dressed in tails for his job as sales assistant he confided that his best selling item is tea and the Japanese go mad for it. At #250 we liked the picnic hamper full of champagne, wine, Welsh spring honey, raspberries in light syrup, foie gras, quails eggs, chutney, strawberry jam laced with more champagne and other goodies buried deep in the wicker work.

In the hand-made shoe shop of Foster & Son in Jermyn Street, where a pair of shoes starts at just under a thousand pounds and something special, say in crocodile, #2250, we discovered that business is booming. ''It's a huge market,'' according to managing director Brian Miller. Above the shop, where two men were working flat out (it takes 120 hours to make one pair of shoes), we peeped at a fascinating collection of wooden lasts, carved and shaped to fit various customers' feet.

Round the corner, in Bury Street, we dropped into John Bly's antique shop. The affable furniture expert from The Antiques Road Show had just popped out but his assistant told us that the shop specialised in 18th and 19th century English furniture. We tried out a gorgeous walnut three seater settee, made about 1880 and fully upholstered. A snip at #12,500.

After the shops we made for a matinee at the Savoy Theatre. In the 1880s, Victorian London was at the feet of Oscar Wilde, a dandy in green velvet and silk stockings. And in The Importance of Being Oscar, Simon Callow's one-man show of the triumph and tragedy of Wilde's life, visibly moved a half-full theatre by his portrayal of Wilde's downfall at the hands of the dastardly Marquess of Queensberry.

We strolled from the Strand to Christie's in King Street where we joined a huge turnout for the auction. The champagne flowed (Wilde would have approved) and the bidding, much to the delight of the auctioneer who confessed he had never sold salmon flies before, rattled away to three and four times the estimate.

Realising there seemed little chance of a bargain my wife and I left for a quick bath before dinner. It was a mistake, for, as we sat down at our table in Le Gavroche Christian excitedly reported that we could have had a week for two rods on the Ponoi River, one of the most productive waters on Russia's Kola Peninsula, for half the #6000 asking price. The next two-and-a-half hours slipped by like the wine down our gullets. There was nothing to fault from the moment we entered the restaurant from the hotel's private entrance. For starters I had a plate of salads with lobster, duck, foie gras and olive bread.

The main course, at the suggestion of the waiter, was a selection of meats - fillet of beef, veal and lamb with three sauces. Superb. For pudding another assortment of the chef's favourites. Delicate, chocolate surprises, creme brulee and rum baba.

Deeply content, nibbling ripe cheese and still drinking wine, we had not yet realised that our brief, extravagant encounter with the ''majestic city'', as Churchill called it, was almost up. The next morning, after a good night's sleep, a hearty breakfast, brought stylishly to our suite, and a last bit of window shopping we were back at Kings Cross.

Getting there: Great North Eastern Railway's First Class fares from Edinburgh or Glasgow to Kings Cross #199 return. Standard Class from #29 return.

Where to stay: 47 Park Street, Mayfair, London W1Y 4EB. Tel: 0171 491 7282; Fax: 0171 491 7281. Daily rates for a suite from #250 plus VAT. Guests have priority booking at Le Gavroche. Prices range from #35 to #85 for lunch (plus 15% service charge) per person. Dinner from #40 to #90 plus 15% service charge.