The Grand Terrace Suite at Claridge's in London. Photo / Claridge's
2024 marks 150 years since former Prime Minister Winston Churchill’s birth, and 2025 marks 80 years since he led Britain to victory in World War II. Tamara Hinson decided that it’s high time for a Winston Churchill-themed exploration of London.
In the pin-drop silence of London’s National Portrait Gallery, I discover that Winston Churchill and I had similar views. Not a love of breakfasts in bed (apparently he’d surround himself with newspapers and remain there until midday, a habit I fully endorse), but a dislike of being photographed.
When painter Graham Sutherland arrived on his doorstep in 1954, tasked with painting a portrait to mark the wartime leader’s 80th birthday, Churchill was less than enthusiastic. The petulant Prime Minister grumbled: “how are you going to paint me? As a cherub or the bulldog?” Churchill hated Sutherland’s finished painting so much that he asked his wife to destroy it.
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He’d probably turn in his grave if he knew that Sutherland’s preliminary sketch now has pride of place in Room 28 of London’s National Portrait Gallery, which has one of the world’s largest collections of Churchill depictions. These include a photograph, taken in 1901, of a young Churchill shortly after he was elected to Parliament, and one taken in 1934 showing Churchill in a pair of pants, swimming in a pool.
It’s hard to beat London for the diversity of the tributes to Winnie. Take the Savoy Hotel’s Savoy Grill (now helmed by the similarly petulant Gordon Ramsay), one of Churchill’s favourite hangouts. Today, little has changed – there are still the same vast expanses of wood panelling and beautiful Art Deco touches. Churchill founded The Other Club here in 1910, and the dining club, consisting mostly of politicians, still meets here. Sadly I don’t sit at his favourite table (you’ll need to book early to do so) but I do feast on his favourite dish (beef Wellington) and sit near his portrait. To drink? It’s got to be The Churchill, made with his beloved whisky and Lillet Rosé, a French aperitif.
Claridge’s Hotel was another favourite hangout, and after his election defeat in 1945 he lived here briefly. Fellow guests included the exiled Yugoslavian royal family; close friends of the former PM. But in 1945 pregnant Queen Alexandria of Yugoslavia’s primary concern didn’t relate to birthing plans – she was distraught her son wouldn’t be born in Yugoslavia. Churchill saved the day by declaring their suite Yugoslavian territory on the day of Prince Alexander’s birth. Stay in this room, the Prince Alexander Suite (you’ll need several thousand dollars to do so) and you’ll doze beneath artwork inspired by Yugoslavia’s coat of arms.
For something more affordable, head to the lobby for the hotel’s sumptuous afternoon tea. A portrait of Churchill hangs near the entrance, and behind the hotel’s nearby archival window are various artefacts from the property’s past, including celebratory fans made by the hotel for the 1911 coronation of King George V.
For a nightcap, I head to Brown’s Hotel, founded in 1832. Former guests include Queen Elizabeth, Mahatma Gandhi and Churchill, who’d come here to sip his favourite brandy. In the Donovan Bar, several guests are doing Churchill proud with their love of the finer things in life. A bartender tells me guests regularly fly in from abroad to try the bar’s vintage cocktails, made with the world’s rarest spirits. The vintage daiquiri, made with a Bacardi Santiago de Cuba dating back to 1930, costs £1200 ($2500). I suggest sticking to the (much more affordable) main cocktail menu. I order the gin-based Whizz Pop. A tribute to Roald Dahl’s children’s book The BFG, it’s served by a bartender who produces a bubble-making gun and garnishes my glass with smoke-filled bubbles.
If you realise you’ve overdone the Whizz Pops (and if you’ve overdone the vintage daiquiris you’ll have more pressing concerns, like remortgaging your house) after leaving the hotel, grab a seat on the bench you’ll find on nearby New Bond St. You’ll be in good company, seated alongside a bronze statue of a cigar-smoking Churchill created in 1995 to commemorate 50 years of peace. Another nearby spot often overlooked by Churchill fans is Jermyn St’s Turnbull & Asser, his tailor of choice. The store’s staff will happily show you his former suit, displayed next to a letter he penned, and his former suit sketches are also on display, complete with measurements. Churchill, it appeared, needed to cut back on those beef Wellingtons.
To be clear, he didn’t spend his entire time knocking back brandy and feasting on steak at the Savoy. During WWII, much of his work was done in his bunker network, an underground nerve centre on King Charles St. Today it’s a museum known as the Churchill War Rooms. Here, you can see the Transatlantic Telephone Room where Churchill talked to world leaders in secret, the Convoy Map, pockmarked with pinholes marking locations of Britain-bound convoys as they dodged German submarines, and Churchill’s Cabinet Room chair. Reminders of his frayed nerves include the scratches etched into the wood (the ones on the left arm are deeper due to the signet ring he wore).
Another important workplace was the Old War Office. From 1906 this building was home to what’s now known as the Ministry of Defence. The stats are staggering: the building, made with 26,000 tonnes of Portland stone and 25 million bricks, has 1000 rooms and four kilometres of corridors. It’s now the Raffles OWO hotel, but little has changed. Guests can explore Churchill’s former workplace during tours with hotel historian Emiel Danneels. “My favourite area is the former military library on the ground floor, now a restaurant,” says Danneels. “This beautifully lit space is where naval Intelligence officer Ian Fleming (and the novelist behind James Bond) did his research. It’s a pleasure to sip a glass of wine here, pondering how Churchill and Fleming once sat here.”
Like many city dwellers, Churchill needed occasional breaks from urban life, and if you need a brief escape from the capital, consider Beaverbrook, a country estate in the Surrey Hills and Churchill’s preferred rural retreat. Owned by Lord Beaverbrook, Churchill’s wartime Minister of Aircraft Production, this Victorian mansion, just an hour’s drive from London, is now a luxurious hotel. The estate is enormous, and guests can stay in cottages or the main house.
I get lucky and bag the Churchill Suite. In the bathroom, I can take a soak at the exact spot where Churchill once bathed, pondering wartime tactics as he puffed on cigars. The hotel’s history has been lovingly preserved – I can watch blockbusters in the UK’s first private cinema (constructed in the late 1800s, its features include Art Deco lamps which once illuminated the Empire State Building) and suite names honour other former guests (the Elizabeth Taylor suite is a great alternative if you don’t bag Winston Churchill’s). In the Downton Abbey-like public areas shelves sag under the weight of books about England’s wartime history. For unknown reasons, Churchill’s wife, Clementine, disliked Beaverbrook with a passion. “Try ridding yourself of this microbe. Exorcise this bottle-imp,” she told him. Churchill ignored her advice, but in his defence, if I had friends with holiday homes like the ones owned by Lord Beaverbrook (and to be clear, I don’t) I’d do the same.
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