I had the good fortune – putting it mildly – to stay last Friday night at the Dorchester Hotel as a prelude to a one-hour preview the following morning, in advance of the crowds, at the ‘must see’ exhibition of the moment – astonishing sculptures by Anish Kapoor – round the corner at the Royal Academy.

I had briefly considered referring in the above sentence to London’s Dorchester Hotel as a possible means of irritating any Independent readers who might have been led into error by an article in Saturday’s newspaper, which I read over a sumptuous post-show breakfast of smoked haddock and scrambled egg served in the hotel’s elegant Promenade (as it’s styled.

Guy Keleny argued that such a qualification was unnecessary, claiming “no one talks about ‘London’s Ritz Hotel’”. Is this true? What if one wishes to distinguish it from the Ritz in Paris?

With the Dorchester there is always the slight risk of the confusion that arises in Fawlty Towers when chef Terry is presumed by a guest to have worked in its august kitchens until Sybil, who had mentioned the D-word as his provenance, feels obliged to add “in Dorchester”.

No, my stay was in the Dorchester, all right – the one in Park Lane, built to the design of Sir Owen Williams and opened in 1932. Recognised from the outset as catering to the rich and famous, it truly came into its own during the Second World War when its reinforced concrete construction was considered to have made it bomb proof. Those who stayed there included Lord Halifax, Winston Churchill and General Dwight. D. Eisenhower (whose first-floor suite is now named in his honour).

Another celebrity who made use of a suite there during the war and every autumn for many years after – on the top floor in his case – was Somerset Maugham, our best-known novelist of the time. I derived a special frisson from reading about his association with the hotel – a glass of champagne in hand (see picture) – while I was actually staying there.

I had started reading Selina Hastings’s admirable new biography The Secret Lives of Somerset Maugham (John Murray, £25) a day or two before my trip to London. A well-appointed room in his favourite hotel seemed the perfect place to finish it.

Hastings conjures up a vivid picture of life as it was when, according to the Daily Express, “of early evening ‘life’ the Dorchester has almost a monopoly. Its bar is to London what the Ritz bar used to be to Paris [that’s the Paris Ritz, Mr K] – crowded with businessmen, socialite women, diplomats and spies”. A similar ‘buzz’ can be experienced today at a hotel which, in my limited experience, appears to supply unparalleled levels of comfort and courtesy to its guests – as can only be expected in an establishment whose owner is none other than the Sultan of Brunei.

A month or so ago, the Sultan is reported to have spent £15,000 flying the hotel barber Ken Modestou to his palace to give him a trim.

Sensible man. I am sure if I had the money, I would splash out similar amounts to secure the services of members of the Dorchester’s immensely obliging staff.

Top of my list, perhaps, would be executive chef Henry Brosi whose team supplied guests at Friday’s Royal Academy of Arts Dinner with a superb meal of asparagus and wild mushroom salad, followed by turbot Duglère and strawberry carpaccio.

This was served in the seventh-floor suite designed in 1953 by Oliver Messel, famous for his work in the theatre. A favourite with Elizabeth Taylor, it has also been used by Marlene Dietrich, Noël Coward, Bob Hope and Sylvester Stallone among others.

Readers of The Oxford Times who might wish to sample the delights of the Dorchester for themselves should make note of the Discover London – Discover the Dorchester promotion which continues until December 10. From a starting price of £635, this offers accommodation in a deluxe room and breakfast for two, two tickets to a theatre show of your choice and two tickets to the Anish Kapoor exhibition.

You will note that I have said little about the Kapoor show. I liked it very much indeed but have desisted from offering my opinion because you can read all about the art in Theresa Thompson’s review elsewhere on The Oxford Times website.