Living La Traviata way: intoxicating pleasures are best when they're fleeting – Laura Waddell

Laura Waddell finds herself ensconced in a snowglobe of luxury for 24 hours

The invitation came at an auspicious time. Prompted by my paper diary to write down aspirations for the year ahead, I’ve been trying to say yes to more offers. Would I like to cover a Champagne dinner at a five-star hotel in the Scottish Borders? Oh, go on then, twist my feeble arm. With dry January on the horizon, it would make a grand last hurrah.

It’s possible to arrive at Schloss Roxburghe by helicopter, not that I was planning to, but one notes the tone set by the helipad. I made a more humble entry, travelling from Glasgow to Kelso by train and taxi, with a change at Edinburgh to the Tweedbank line, leaving from the exotic-to-me Platform 3 at the back of Waverley, which, when the train pulls away, offers a gorgeous view of modernist beauty St Andrew’s House.

The hotel’s website says: “We would be happy to coordinate transportation for you to and from the stations via taxi.” The private car service number looked fancier than I fancied. Googling local cabs, Five Star Taxis sorted me out for £42.25 from Galashiels station.

Laura Waddell travelled to Schloss Roxburghe for a Champagne dinner (Picture: Schloss Roxburghe)

An appropriate earworm was chattering. Recent episodes of Real Housewives of Miami showed cast member Julia Lemigova learning to sing the operatic “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici”, otherwise known as the drinking song from La Traviata. I’d been humming the infectuous opening to the aria for days. The lyrics by Francesco Maria Piave are an ode to taking pleasure in the moment: “Let’s drink, let’s drink with joyous abandon. May this fleeting hour intoxicate us with pleasure.” Apt.

The postcard frontage of Schloss Roxburghe has the kind of curved driveway that car headlights sweep up after dark in dramatic arcs. Opening the wreathed front door to the first of many Christmas trees and a burning fire, inside bustled with families and couples checking in for a plush weekend in the country, mulled wine offered on arrival as a welcome tonic coming in from the cold.

The hotel sits on what once was the Sunlaws Estate, home of Lady Chatto, where Bonnie Prince Charlie spent a night before advancing to England. He’s said to have planted a white rose bush before leaving. I found my bedroom in the hotel’s contemporary extension along with a welcoming slate of fruit, macarons and miniature mince pies. I would have a deep, post-prandial sleep in the bed’s wide white spread of thick cotton sheets later – but before dinner, I had to check out the spa.

The pool, unfortunately, was closed. Over dinner later, general manager Bruno De Schuyter would show us photographs on his phone of flooding from the next field over, the pool’s turquoise tiles obscured by floodwater. Outside, via a muddy walk in spa slippers, were two sleek saunas, a plunge pool, and a bubbling jacuzzi, overlooked by an inviting indoor lounge area with floor-to-ceiling windows and an elegant, enclosed log fire. A good-looking place, it’s all wicker and wood against creams and beiges. Around the grounds, where significant investment is being put into building holiday cottages, are the calm, gnarled forms of mature trees and sheep in undulating fields. 



‘Dinner with Charles Heidsieck’ begins with canapes and the celebratory, party-starting pop of a magnum. Simon Stockton, senior brand development manager, is host for tonight and gives a whistlestop backstory to founder ‘Champagne Charlie’, as the 19th-century merchant became known in America. In an effort to de-fuss the business of Champagne quaffing, we’re using wine glasses, not flutes.


Next ushered by impeccably mannered waiting staff to the red-walled dining room of restaurant Sunlaws for a Borders-forward, five-course tasting menu by Chef Rabin. My vegetarian diet a departure from the set menu, each dish was explained to me on arrival.



Our first Champagne of the evening was the bestselling Brut Reserve – not sold in supermarkets. First course, poached salsify served with hazlenuts, tiny onions and golden raisins. Then, Borders Wagyu tartare with Lindisfarne oyster and caviar for meat-eaters; for me basil pannacotta over a red gradient of macerated tomatoes, paired with Rose Millensime 2012. I press the French speaker and Champagne drinker next to me for her opinion. She is reticent when I ask if rose ia considered “a bit naff”; but concedes it’s not usually her choice. Around the table, however, this one goes down well. 



Next, my favourite of the night. Blancs de Blancs, made using only white grapes, in this case chardonnay. Fruity, rather than yeasty, it’s well-rounded in the mouth. Carnivores on lobster, I have what I think was pumpkin and potato rosti, my pencil menu annotations beginning to degrade.

For a break, we switch to chianti – a warming Isole e Olena Chianti Classico 2020, related to Champagne Charlie by corporate family tree. The meat-eaters on venison, I have my own showstopper, mushroom tartlets in white truffle sauce with shavings of truffle on top. But the surprise hit around the table was our accompanying salty, crisp sprout tips, moreish little flavour bombs.

Last course, cheese: Kelsae, produced locally at Stichill Farm by Brenda Leddy. New to me, it is delicious served decadent and warm in Chef Rabin’s mousse with quince and walnut bread. The finale glass is a rare Charles Heidsieck’s Blanc des Millenaires 2007. With five glasses in front of me, I’ve tapered to small sips of each. But it’s the Blancs de Blancs I go back to finish, leaning back on thick bolster cushions, as petits fours of chocolates and more miniature mince pies appear. Enconsed in a snowglobe of luxury for 24 hours was, as it turned out, an intoxicating way to spend a winter weekend.

Luxury, in the Instagram era, can feel hollow: digital displays of wealth and pretence are more about showing off status and ownership rather than savouring anything. But I've come out of this experience with a renewed belief that the biggest indulgences in life are best when they're fleeting, enjoyed in the moment.