Review at a glance: ★★★★☆
You’ll not overhear better conversation than in Wiltons, though in other restaurants often you get the choice. Discounting the booths, which in a war-bunkerish way keep the world out and all the secrets in, Wiltons is a place for people who project. Raging ex-wives, judges with oceanic voices, Americans showing off; that gang. Unsolicited conversation that joined our table included a disparaging appraisal of Cambridge University (“Are you seriously telling me it’s still ‘in’?”), talk of “mother shacking up with a man 32 years younger” (good for her), and later a politician’s daughter cheerfully recalling scandalous visits to Chequers (“the things we saw, you wouldn’t believe”). “I never meet anyone, Jeremy,” said one lachrymose singleton. “I’ll probably end up with a friend.” “Oh darling, no,” Jeremy replied. “I’d never let it get that bad.”
