This dim and inviting little haven used to be the full-blown Casa del Habano, but the blasted smoking ban put paid to that. Now it is simply a small room adjoining Floridita, but it has retained its walk-in humidor, members lockers and 'cigar factory' ambience. I was hoping the roller might still be in attendance as there's nothing quite like a cigar straight 'off the bench', but his little chair at the front of the store was forlornly empty.
But the RASS, and the company, more than made up for it. I'd forgotten what a killer little cigar this can be. Plenty of balls, but not too strong, it's a tasty treat for the concerning cigar man. I always find it smokes in three distinct phases, starting lightly, easing into some power and spice and then tailing off with a nice, sweet, lingering finish.
While I'm on the subject of Casa, what sort of idiotic piece of legislation is it that allows you to drink iced tea with your cigar, but not anything alcoholic?! Moronic in the extreme.
Anyhoo, the good news is that I shall be licking my nib thoughtfully (no smutty jokes please) and putting pen to metaphorical paper for The Arbuturian in no time at all.
Earlier in the day I found an excuse for a meeting at the good old Lanesborough at Grosvenor Square, although being a forgetful plum, I hadn't realised the wonderful Garden Room wasn't open until 4pm. Doh! as Homer might so poignantly put it.
Didn't spoil things though, for while enjoying the sunshine outside, I was treated to my very own changing of the Horse Guards and even an official fly past from a Lancaster bomber. And I wasn't even getting married.
Toodles,
M.
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