Those wishing to avoid the ubiquitous Stephen Fry will find London’s Dorchester Hotel a convenient and comfortable, if rather costly, bolthole — on the assumption that the versatile actor, writer and wit is in the habit of obeying his mum.

Let me explain. In the early 1960s, Fry’s parents attended a ball there which broke up early because news of John F. Kennedy’s assassination came through. Nearly two decades later, Stephen and Cambridge University Footlights friends were performing there after the premiere of Chariots of Fire when the audience of Twentieth Century Fox executives suddenly rushed from the ballroom to the telephones: someone had shot Ronald Reagan.

“Well that’s settled then, darling,” Mrs Fry told her son that night. “No member of this family ever goes to an event at the Dorchester again. It’s not fair on the Americans.”

I came upon this story last Friday night in Stephen’s second volume of autobiography, The Fry Chronicles, which has just been published by Michael Joseph, at £20. It added to my amusement that I should have been reading it in the luxury of a bedroom at the selfsame hotel.

But there was little time for further study of the book, in view of the packed programme offered to us lucky Press visitors by the hotel management and the Royal Academy. The two had combined to promote the Discover London, Discover The Dorchester package. This offers special rates, from £305 a night, at the hotel with two tickets thrown in for the RA’s new Treasures from Budapest exhibition. (Call 020 7319 7147 for information, or email reservations.uk@dorchestercollection.com.) The kitchen and waiting staff at the legendarily luxurious hotel showed their mettle at a champagne reception and dinner in the Penthouse & Pavilion. Executive chef Henry Brosi and his team offered a mouth-watering dinner of Caesar salad with huge chunks of lobster, fillet of Castle of Mey beef with ox cheek cannelloni, and praline crumble with lemon and cinnamon and fresh raspberries.

The next morning there was an hour to view the Royal Academy show before the public arrived at 10am. Our art critic Theresa Thompson will be giving her verdict in a couple of weeks, so I shall say no more than that I thoroughly enjoyed the eclectic mix of works — and especially Raphael’s lovely Esterhazy Madonna of 1507-8.

Back at the Dorchester, I put away a late breakfast of smoked haddock and scrambled egg in the hotel’s glorious Promenade (above), before setting off with Rosemarie to do, as invited, and ‘discover London’.

We did this on foot — through Green Park, past Buck House, through St James’s Park, and then along the Embankment, pausing as we crossed Blackfriars Bridge to watch some of the hundreds of gaily painted craft involved in the Great River Race.

In Southwark, we enjoyed pints in the National Trust’s delightful George Inn (7 Borough High Street — 020 7407 2056, pictured) before a look round the foodie delights of Borough Market, and an hour of great music, West Indian rum and super food at the Caribbean Tourism Organisation’s Rum & Rhythm promotion at Vinopolis.

Most Londoners hanker for a weekend place in the country. I think I would like one in London.

Wish it could be the Dorchester.