Perfect the art of doing nothing at this literary hotel, with its salon-style bar, free-standing baths and soon-to-come cigar terrace
Some phrases sound better in clandestine, clubby settings. You can’t imagine, for example, Oscar Wilde’s enduring dandy Lord Henry Wotton saying, ‘There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about,’ anywhere but in a lavishly decorated room (likewise, without a cigar in hand). The same goes for the quote commonly attributed to Bertrand Russell which is splashed all over Bertrand’s Townhouse: ‘The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.’
Such a statement wouldn’t quite land if the hotel did not feel like an eccentric uncle’s living room, complete with gold-framed portraits and fully stocked humidor. But at Bertrand’s Townhouse, Russell’s quote is not a foppish phrase tossed across the table at dinner, but a mission statement.
The 43-room hotel in Bloomsbury opened at the end of last year as a tribute to the real Bertrand Russell, a philosopher, polemicist and Bloomsbury Group influencer. He wrote compulsively and thought expansively, but it is less his academic rigour that inspired the townhouse, and more his wit and zest for life.
Russell believed that happiness lay in enjoying as many things as possible and losing yourself in whatever absorbs you. Hence the quote. With that in mind, at Bertrand’s Townhouse even the smallest details feel designed to make guests happy – from the edible flowers topping the bar snacks to the underfloor heating in the bathrooms.
The Philosopher's Quarters: a room built for lounging
The hotel is spread across three conjoined Georgian townhouses, linked by a maze of corridors and spiralling staircases. Rooms – here referred to as “quarters” – all come with king or super-king beds, mini Smeg fridges and showers stuffed with Diptyque goodies. Slippers and fluffy white robes are provided: relaxing is an art form within these walls.
I am staying in the first-floor Philosopher’s Quarters, the hotel’s largest suite. From the moment the double doors open and I clock the claw-footed bath by the window, all half-baked ideas I had of grabbing a quick drink in Soho trickle away. This is a room built for lounging; a place to luxuriate in doing nothing.
The original Georgian features – soaring ceilings, intricate fireplace, sash windows – are still present and, combined with the scarlet walls and herringbone parquet floor, the overall impression is of great grandeur. Being in Bloomsbury, there are also twin writing desks, should you feel inspired by the area’s literary heritage.
And being Bertrand’s, there are also many places to spend time horizontally. The bath, positioned below tall windows, is cossetted by wispy curtains. The super-king bed is crowned with Cubist artworks. There’s even a dinky sofa in front of the fireplace, beckoning with the hotel’s ever-present mission statement: “the time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time”. The room feels like it’s practically insisting I spend all evening in the fluffy white robe.
Ottie's Salon: the hotel bar – and lobby – named after Russell’s friend Lady Ottoline Morrell
It is a Friday night, though, so I reluctantly pull on my heels and head downstairs to Ottie’s Salon, the hotel bar – and de facto lobby – named after Russell’s friend Lady Ottoline Morrell, who was known for her literary salons.
And, true to form, it does have the atmosphere of a speakeasy or private members’ club. There are gold-framed paintings and glimmering mirrors, palm prints plastered across ceilings and cushions, squashy velvet chairs clustered around low, candlelit tables, and waistcoated waiters wearing the same scarlet and navy shades as the walls. It’s not hard to imagine having clandestine conversations in here – or in the soon-to-come cigar terrace out back.
You can have dinner of sorts in Ottie’s, which is what I do. The all-day menu is mostly flower-topped small plates, ranging from a crunchy Caesar salad to a dark chocolate and sea salt tart (both are excellent). If you have plans elsewhere, still stop by for a pre-dinner French 75 and plate of beef croquettes (“small squares of tender heaven”, I write in my notes, “could eat these forever”).
But by far the best thing to do at Bertrand’s Townhouse is exactly as the man says. Do whatever makes you most happy, whether that’s sipping cocktails in the salon, luxuriating in long, late-night baths or cancelling all your plans and ordering room service in bed. Russell was right. There’s no such thing as wasted time here.
From £300 a night. 4-6 Bedford Place, London WC1B 5JD; bertrandstownhouse.co.uk
