An invitation to afternoon tea at Palazzo Parisio. How civilised...the hush of old Maltese grandeur, delicious food, impeccable service, exceptional ambience. The name already sets the tone.

Palazzo Parisio was originally built by the popular Portuguese Grand Master Manoel de Vilhena. It has belonged to the Scicluna family since the middle of the 19th century when it was acquired from the Parisio family by the Marquis Giuseppe Scicluna. It was he who enriched and endowed it with immense style and opulence, turning it into the great stately home that it is now and one of Malta's prestigious heritage homes. It has been described as a miniature Versailles because of its architecture and embellishments and its garden which is half a mile long.

We were here to celebrate our dear friend Pauline Boffa's birthday, and the invitation came from her two daughters. Most of the guests have known each other over many years, so there was no awkwardness but a great deal of conversation and catching up.

The beautifully laid refractory table looked like a scene from a Fellini film, the setting being in the garden which at this time of year was looking its best. Several towers of little delights laid out across the table looked so enticing: fresh scones with clotted cream (the real spoon‑standing type) and strawberry preserve; delicious finger sandwiches with the crust trimmed off and filled with cucumber (if I remember correctly) and smoked salmon; egg mayonnaise; strawberry tarts; slices of Victoria sponge cake, all served up in fine bone china. Let me not forget to mention the mini éclairs, macaroons in pastel colours, chocolate ganache tartlets.

There were teapots of fine loose tea, a luxury these days since for the sake of convenience most of us use tea bags. The elegant teapots had an inbuilt strainer, so there was not the awkwardness of having to deal with a tea strainer. It would have been difficult with over a dozen guests. Was the tea Queen Anne Blend, Darjeeling First Flush, Jasmine Pearl, Afternoon Blend? I do not have that kind of expertise although I drink plenty of mugs of tea.

All this reminded me of the pastoral, gentle indulgence of Cotswolds cream teas and my then teenage daughters saying to me hopefully: "Perhaps we shall bump into a cream tea, Ma." We always did, inevitably. They made sure of that. Pauline's birthday tea carried the same quiet pleasure as a cream tea in that civilised part of England, where time slows down and the only real decision is jam first or cream first; tea first or milk.

It was the sort of spread one expects at Fortnum & Mason - where even the jam seems to have a pedigree.

I recently bought myself the complete set of Keeping Up Appearances because though addicted to newspapers, most news is so negative and leaves me feeling sad. I want to laugh in my last days, not cry. I've cried enough.

I love Hyacinth Bucket and her eternal quest for refinement, her insistence on "keeping up appearances," while poor Richard trembles behind the silverware as she bosses him around. Yes, Hyacinth herself would have approved, perhaps even claimed it as her own doing, insisting that Richard had polished the silver specially.

That lovely birthday afternoon passed too fast, but it left behind a warmth that lingers - the kind that settles quietly in the heart, like the last sip of tea before the cup is set down. Thank you so much girls. And tante belle cose dear Pauline. Here's to many more birthdays.