WHEN the Duchess of Windsor proclaimed, "You can never be too rich or too thin", she might have added: "Or too comfortable." The royals and nobility of this world are not about to tear themselves away from their assorted posh estates, historic castles and stylish town houses to travel like ordinary mortals.

Really! What's the point of going off to Baden Baden for the baths, parading at Ascot, or lounging on a golden beach if it's not as special as what you've left behind.

Which is why everyone from Prince Charles and Princess Caroline of Monaco to Saudi Arabian princes and the late King Hassan of Morocco have always been privy to a list of very, very special places that surprisingly will also accept reservations from almost anyone able to afford them. The secret is knowing where they are and when to go if you're interested in sharing a gilt-edged address with titled clientele.

Of course, one of the most well-known is Claridge's in London's prestigious Mayfair district, 100 years young back in 1998.

"Actually, it all started when Queen Victoria had tea here with Empress Eugenia," confided the manager elegant in pinstriped trousers and morning coat. "The royals have been coming ever since."

In fact, it has been dubbed "The Annex to Buckingham Palace".

Added the manager: "Titled heads of state who are guests of the Queen usually stay at the Palace from Monday though Wednesday, then traditionally move to Claridge's on Thursday where they return the Monarch's hospitality by hosting a banquet for her."

When a caller asked, "Let me speak to the King", during the Queen's coronation in 1953, the hotel receptionist courteously responded: "Certainly, sir. With which King would you like to speak?"

"We have three Royal Suites," commented the manager, "and adjoining rooms can be connected to accommodate a retinue of up to 50. Corridors run behind principal rooms to allow for passage of service staff, just as in a fine private home where help is not to be seen or heard.

"This really is like a glorious private house, except when clients leave we give them a very large bill."

Most feel it's worth the price, with 70 per cent repeaters. Colour-coded lights on the manager's desk announce arrival of a royal signalled via the porter by flashing red; a distinguished guest gets the green light. And immediately the manager appeared as if by magic to welcome us.

Records of guests' preferences are quite remarkable. "We've put you in the Egyptian Suite since we know how much you enjoy travelling there," we were told at our most recent check-ins. "Ginger Rogers loved it." So did we. Yet when I called Savoy reservations in the US recently, they'd never heard of that suite . . . perhaps its name has changed. An elegant vintage Bentley outside the entrance was ever-ready for travel whims of Texas-based Baron Porta Nova, who also owned a home in Acapulco used in James Bond films. We've attended parties there and one wonders why he ever left that fantasyland.

Famed as a collector of Faberg? eggs, the Baron spent five or six months annually in one of Claridge's Royal Suites before he became too ill to travel. One can only imagine the size of the bill. His wealth came from Texas oil, achieved after the kind of family lawsuit one expects to read about in the and .

Although film stars tend to gravitate to its sister hotel, the Savoy, some are loyal Claridge's repeaters. Audrey Hepburn labelled it a personal favourite.

Zsa Zsa Gabor was in residence, attracting attention with a tantrum in the foyer that almost drowned out lilting waltzes played by the Hungarian Quartet. Although she certainly raised eyebrows, its cause was quite understandable. Zsa Zsa walked in, sat down and was soon approached by a titled dowager who bore down on her like a battleship under full power, demanding she move.

In a loud voice, as though issuing a proclamation, the dowager insisted: "I've been coming to this hotel for blank number of years" . . . I forget the exact number . . . "and I always sit in that chair."

How totally boring (to say nothing of rude and ill-bred behaviour) to have to sit in just a certain chair. What a dull, dull life that dowager must lead . . . no variety, no excitement. Zsa Zsa, not one to take this sort of thing sitting down . . . no pun intended . . . sat firm as management attempted to soothe the troubled waters. Meanwhile, we sipped champagne, nibbled blanched almonds and admired the Duchess of Kent's jewels.

Fergie, flamboyant former Duchess of York, is a regular; Ronnie and Nancy have visited, as well as George and Barbara Bush who rated it "the nicest hotel we've ever stayed at". When shown her elegant suite, Nancy proclaimed: "It will be adequate." Winston Churchill also had a penthouse apartment, one of two now available to mere mortals.

those famous beds. Yes, they make their own and guests who find them extraordinarily comfortable can buy them. Which is exactly what the late King of Morocco did. Normally he travelled with his own bed . . . and you thought all that luggage was full of crown jewels. It makes my insistence on feather pillows seem very mundane by comparison!

But the King's butler found the hotel bed so remarkably comfortable, he convinced the Monarch to try one. Result? The King was so impressed, he ordered enough mattresses to fill his palace and sent his own private plane to pick them up!

My one major travel regret is having to decline an invitation from him to attend the very special 25th anniversary of Morocco's independence. My brother Jim and I were asked to come and stay at the palace, play golf with the King and enjoy the beauty of Morocco. It sounded fabulous, but unfortunately I had made a previous commitment months earlier that would have been very unethical to cancel. So I very sadly sent my regrets . . . and still lament missing the event. It's the high price you sometimes have to pay for keeping your word.

Over the years, travellers discover their own personal list of London hotels, sometimes through a system of trial and error. Happily, I must say that sampling a variety of different hotels there over the years has proved to be a mostly happy experience.

It's been a long and satisfying assignment to stay at a cross-section of them in different districts . . . from the Westbury, Lowndes, Capitol, Berkeley and Savoy to the Hyde Park, Grosvenor House, Cavendish, St. James, Goring and Cadogan, for starters. I also thoroughly enjoyed the very traditional Basil Street Hotel with its lobby full of veteran Raj-era military officers.

Some hotels have been approached in unusual ways . . . like the day I landed at Southampton after a very rough last-voyage-under-steam crossing via in October 1986 and caught the train up to London.

Apparently, Grosvenor House thought our group looked a little travel-worn and ushered us upstairs via a back fire escape staircase so black-tie wedding guests wouldn't be tainted by the sight of travellers toting hand luggage rather than champagne glasses. It was not an auspicious beginning, but things have seemed more welcoming on subsequent visits.

The Savoy handled my disabled arrival with the flair for which it's justly famed. I'd just flown in from Egypt where a couple of days earlier I'd trekked up to the rocky summit above St. Catherine's Monastery in a very isolated region of the dramatic Sinai. It's a place I find so fascinating, it has lured me back for three visits.

Reaching the site where legend says Moses received the Ten Commandments means climbing a very steep trail in intense heat, often via high rock "stairs" placed there by monks and holy men over the centuries. It was thousands of tall steps up and down, but I'm someone used to walking and hiking.

morning, I woke up thinking I was in pretty good shape because, stretching my legs, reaching up that sheer incline didn't bother me at all . . .nor did it the following day. But by the time I reached the Savoy entrance, every step had become an agony of leg-calves convulsing in pain. Stretcher bearers would have been welcome.

A savvy assistant considerately guided me to a quiet lounge, settled me into an overstuffed chair. Tea service arrived immediately and registration and credit card imprints proceeded effortlessly while my recuperating legs relaxed.

There was really only one total disappointment . . . a stay at a very mod, minimalist, new-age kind of hotel recommended by the British Tourist Authority in the Portobello area where we were doing a shopping feature on London's unique outdoor markets.

Not only was the atmosphere thoroughly depressing, but when we pushed the elevator button and the door opened, Jim thankfully looked in before entering. Surprise of surprises, there was no elevator there . . . only a deep, dirty and empty shaft that would have spelled disaster if we'd entered.

My family's preference has always been towards the traditional, a place with a sense of history and a heavy abundance of antiques. Those are the properties to which we return for encore stays. Definitely none surpasses Claridge's in my estimation.

Even though it is one of the world's most famous and luxurious properties, it is affordable for celebrating that very special occasion. Seasonal specials this winter are as low as ?179 (about $290) daily. Normally prices for its 203 rooms and suites start at twice that and escalate depending on the suite one selects.

Nearly $70 million has been spent redecorating, getting the property ready for its second century. My suite not only had a large dressing room and a loo where silver-plated faucets are carefully refinished, but a powder room as well.

And, of course, the location is superb. Actually, it all started in much the same way as another of my personal favourites . . . the Ritz in Paris. One townhouse taking in guests expanded to a collection of adjoining ones in that celebrity French flagship and much the same thing happened in the beginning with this property back in the mid-1800s.

Set in the heart of Mayfair, it was so named because the area was the location of London's ancient May Fairs where livestock and grain was sold in May dating back to the 1600s. Considered neighbourhood, it's within easy walking distance of streets that set shoppers' hearts palpitating . . . Oxford Street, Bond Street, Regent Street. Legendary stores, many bearing signs "By Appointment To the Queen" with names like Floris, Asprey, Church and Company, Liberty, Aquascutum and Lalique beckon browsers and spenders alike.

Standards of the Savoy Group are all high, including delights of savouring the Cotswolds from their Lygon Arms in Broadway. But that's another article.

Remember, you don't have to be a royal to live like one!

Learn more about rates and packages from your travel agent or through The Savoy Group, 1-800-637-2869. Rates usually range from ?370 for a standard room up to ?2,340 for one of the royal suites favoured by visiting kings and queens. But check for much lower seasonal rates and specials.

4 Are you a spectator or participant?