The sight of a large and gleaming black Citroën, number plate FRA 1, parked on the forecourt of Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons at Great Milton might have led some to suppose that the famously modest Raymond Blanc had suddenly fallen for the trappings of grandeur. In fact, the vehicle was the official car of M. Maurice Gourdault-Montagne, the French Ambassador to the United Kingdom.

Hours later he would be welcoming 3,000 guests at his London Embassy at a reception to mark Bastille Day, the most important occasion in the French national calendar. Now here he was at a party to celebrate the 25th anniversary of an Oxfordshire hotel. There were only three people, he told us in a brief formal speech, who could have commanded him to make a lengthy journey on the 14th of July. The first was the President of the French Republic; the second was “Her Gracious Majesty The Queen”; and the third was Raymond Blanc – “dear Raymond”.

All of us, of course, felt honoured to be among the 160 guests on this special day at Le Manoir, a splendid occasion even by the lavish standards of this world-famous establishment. I confess, though, that I subjected my invitation to especially close scrutiny in the light of what had happened a quarter of a century ago when the hotel opened.

Summoned for cocktails at 4pm, according to my invitation, I saw nothing to query in the timing. So my guest and headed to Great Milton at that hour, to find the party wasn’t for three hours. A secretarial slip.

The odd thing was I had spent the morning at the hotel, gathering information for the news story you can see over on the right hand side of this page. (Dinner for £25, anyone?) Leaving at lunchtime, with a cheery “See you later!” to Raymond, I little guessed that ‘later’ would turn out to be rather sooner than I was expected.

No mistakes on Tuesday, though, despite the lunch invitation being for as early as 11.30pm. This allowed time not only for speeches but for a preceding half-hour of glorious music supplied on the lawn by pianist Marios Papadopoulos, the music director of the Oxford Philomusica. The pyrotechnics of Chopin’s Polonaise in A flat major can, I realise now, only be fully enjoyed in tandem with glasses of champagne and elegant canapes from the kitchens of Le Manoir. The musical interlude was completed by a rousing performance of La Marseillaise led by soprano Sally Harrison (pictured with Raymond above).

A march-past (my word) by a good proportion of the hotel’s 203 staff demonstrated, in the hugs and kisses, the affection in which Raymond is held. More embraces followed as guests moved into the hotel for lunch.

The five-course feast supplied under the supervision of executive head chef Gary Jones began with “tartare of Scottish langoustine, flavours of Japan” followed by “salad of heirloom tomato, Kalamata olive; Sicilian tomato essence sorbet”. The fish course was “confit of wild River Severn salmon, elderflower, yuzu cream; garden radish”. Then came “Mr Ring’s ‘Bury Hook’ lamb [pink, succulent with a crisp-cooked piece of sweetbread], braised fennel, coco beans, aubergine purée”. Pudding was “poached peach in white wine and citrus fruits, black figs filled with a port ice cream”, with coffee, petits fours and chocolates to complete the meal.

The wines, all French naturally, were L’Aumonier 2008 Le Touraine Blanc, Bergerac Richesse 2005 Domaine de Garrou and Monbazillac 2006 Domaine de l’Ancienne Cure ‘Jour De Fruit’.

A lunch – and an occasion – to remember, a highlight of which for me was a chat at the end of the meal with Raymond’s former wife Jenny (now big in interior design) and former boss (at Oxford’s La Sorbonne) Alain Desenclos who has been in charge of the Manoir’s restaurant since the day it opened.