Note: This is a creative first-person story review told in “I” voice for clarity and fun.
Why I picked it
I wanted a classic London stay. Old bones, thick walls, and a short walk to a show. The Waldorf sits on Aldwych, near Covent Garden. I booked three nights, midweek in May. Price was about £280 a night with breakfast. Not cheap. But the spot? Gold.
Curious readers who want the uncut version of this London chapter can jump to my extended notes over at Waldorf Hotel, London – My Stay, My Truth.
I also had a small work thing nearby. So I told myself it was “for work.” Then I packed cute shoes and a rain coat. Honest mix.
First look and check-in
The door staff opened the big doors with a smile. I smelled flowers and a hint of lemon. The lobby glowed. High ceilings. Marble that made my sneakers feel silly and loud.
Check-in took about 10 minutes. There was a queue of six people. The agent was kind and quick. She upgraded me one level “since you’re celebrating,” she said, after I mentioned my show night. This is the kind of tiny thing that sticks.
I got room 612 first. Facing Aldwych.
The room (round one)
The room looked grand and neat, but not huge. Big bed. Crisp sheets. Two pillows firm, two soft. A little desk with a leather blotter. Kettle, tea, and a small coffee pod machine. Two tiny shortbread biscuits that did not make it past 4 p.m.
Closet held an iron, board, and a safe that beeped like a microwave. Only one plug by the bed. Why do hotels do this? I had to choose between phone and watch. I chose phone.
Bathroom was bright. Marble top. Shower over a deep tub. Water ran hot fast, and the pressure was strong. The towel rail was warm. Nice touch after London rain. The bath edge was high, though. My knee noticed.
Noise and the room switch
Here’s the thing: Aldwych gets busy at night. Sirens. Cabs. A bus that sighed like a dragon. The windows were thick, but the noise still nipped at me. I slept, but it felt thin.
I asked to move the next day. Front desk didn’t flinch. “We have an interior room,” they said. Room 325. Smaller view, but so quiet. Like someone pressed mute. I slept hard. Worth the swap.
Breakfast: warm plates and small waits
Breakfast sat in the Homage room. It felt like a set from an old film. I’m not mad about it. (Curious about Homage, Good Godfrey’s, or the new Wild Monkey bar? The hotel’s own overview has the full scoop right here.) There was a short wait at 8:30 a.m. Maybe five minutes. The staff moved things along.
Food was solid:
- Scrambled eggs creamy, not runny.
- Mushrooms rich and garlicky.
- Bacon a bit chewy, but tasty.
- Smoked salmon on ice, fresh and salty.
- Fruit that looked like fruit, not plastic.
- Toast came hot. I liked that.
Tea came fast. Coffee was a tad bitter. I fixed it with milk. Simple fix.
One morning, the jam jar was sticky. A server saw me wipe the lid and swapped it right away. Little save, big smile.
Afternoon tea and a piano
I booked afternoon tea in the Palm Court for Saturday. Piano, soft light, and scones that came warm. I could smell butter before the plate landed. Clotted cream thick like a cloud. Strawberry jam with seeds. Yes, please.
Finger sandwiches were neat. Cucumber was my favorite. I wasn't fancy as a kid, but now I crave this. Funny how taste buds grow up.
And if polished urban elegance is your thing beyond the UK, my Chicago adventure at Hotel Julian delivered similar Art-Deco vibes with Midwestern warmth.
The bar and a late snack
Good Godfrey’s poured me a proper martini. Cold, clean, a twist of lemon. I sat near the wall and watched people glide by. A couple took photos under the lights. Cute. I ordered chips at the bar. Hot, salted, and gone fast.
One side note: if your evening mood shifts from martini-smooth to something a little more risqué, I learned that a quick dip into Adult Look can line up vetted local companions and reviews, giving you a clear, no-surprise guide to London’s adult scene.
Likewise, if work (or whim) ever sends you stateside to suburban Detroit, the Michigan-focused listings at Backpage Farmington Hills lay out up-to-date, user-rated ads and safety tips so you can arrange a discreet meet-up with the same confidence you’d expect from a savvy hotel concierge.
Service moments that stuck
- I needed a UK adapter. Housekeeping brought one in eight minutes. I timed it.
- My umbrella snapped in the wind. The doorman found tape. It looked silly but worked.
- I asked the concierge about shows. He circled three box offices on a map and said, “Check returns.” I did. Snagged a seat for a 7:30 show. Row H. I felt lucky.
Gym and little things
The gym downstairs had new treadmills, free weights, and clean towels stacked like bricks. Not huge, but not crowded at 6:30 a.m. A trainer wiped a bench before I even asked. Water was cold. Music was soft. Bless.
Wi-Fi was fast enough for a video call. I did have to sign in again each day. Not a big deal, just naggy.
The lifts were slow at peak times. Twice I took the stairs with my tote and felt noble, then sweaty.
Location magic
You can walk to Covent Garden in about 7 minutes. I grabbed a flat white near the market and watched a violinist in the square. Somerset House is right there for art and quiet steps. The Thames is a short stroll. Buses roll along the Strand if your feet get fussy. Holborn and Temple stations are both walkable.
This area hums. You feel the theatre buzz even at noon. It’s catchy.
What bugged me
- Street noise in front rooms. Ask for an interior room if you sleep light.
- Only one bedside plug. Bring a small multi-plug if you carry gadgets.
- High tub wall. Careful step in and out.
- Lift waits at breakfast and check-out times.
What I loved
- Old-school style without stiff airs.
- Warm staff who actually notice things.
- Breakfast that felt cared for, not just set out.
- Afternoon tea with live piano. My heart grew two sizes.
- Quiet of the interior room. Sleep matters.
My quick tips
- Ask for a courtyard or interior room.
- Book afternoon tea ahead for weekends.
- Hit the gym early. It’s calmer.
- Bring a UK adapter and a small power strip.
- If you want theatre, try box office returns at 10 a.m.
Value check
Was it worth the price? For me, yes—mostly for the location and charm. For travelers hunting for similar elegance at potentially lower rates, a quick scan of deals via Fortune Hotel is also smart research. If you’re weighing up city stays, my recent two-night stopover in Manchester’s lively Northern Quarter at The Quad Hotel cost a shade less but traded marble for murals—worth a look if budget nudges you north. If you crave super modern rooms and a plug at every angle, you may grumble. If you want London theatre and a sense of place, this hits the mark.
Would I stay again? Yeah. I’d ask for the quiet side from the start. And I’d save room for scones. You know what? The scones kind of sealed it.