Well folks, here we are, transported through time and space to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Golden couches and the distressed chintz sofa are arranged on a terrace overlooking the Euphrates and, as we recline on the exquisitely-soft cushions eating peeled grapes, we can enjoy the warm fragrance of the gardens' many exotic blooms. The garden is tended by the indefatigable Mellors, with occasional help from the bishops, rabbis and any passing world leaders. Somewhere behind the terrace there is an aga and a priest's hole, with optional massage table.
Please come and join us for a celebratory drink and conversation ranging from the profound to the profoundly silly.