I took my mum to afternoon tea at this five-star luxury Edinburgh hotel, and she didn't want to leave

She was well impressed by the coolest cutting-edge gadget at Gleneagles Townhouse.

It’s next to the main entrance, and is a set of realistic-looking New Town stone stairs, which move down, like flattened piano keys, so a wheelchair can roll onto them.

Then this platform raises you up into the hotel and members club, with another lift to take you to restaurant level.

“It’s worth visiting this place, just for this,” she said, with her mind blown.

I felt like the Miss Moneypenny to her Roger Moore, as I wheeled her into The Spence.

We hadn’t even started eating yet, and early impressions were very positive for their afternoon tea, which has recently relaunched with a new menu by head pastry chef Renato Blinder.

It’s available from Monday to Friday from 2:30pm until 4:30pm, and costs £60pp or from £75pp with a glass of Veuve Clicquot Champagne. This is poured from their trolley, to add to the sense of occasion in this grand dining room.

Of course, we said yes to the booze, though mum had a hot flush after a few sips and I had to quaff her glass too. I don’t think she’d cope with a Martini, shaken but not stirred.

To start, there was also an amuse bouche of bright orange pumpkin and truffle veloute with spindly mushroom duxelles at the bottom, and some cheesy and seedy oval crackers on the side.

I didn’t finish every bite, as I have to pace myself with afternoon tea.

In contrast, mum scraped the bottom of the little ramekin as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

It’ll be a miracle if she makes it to the scone course, I thought.

The goodies came quickly. Three tiers of two-by-two delectables, with the chunky savoury offerings on the bottom deck.

As she’s a former librarian, we worked from left to right, as is proper in reading and eating.

First was the smoked salmon croissant with creme fraiche and herring caviar. It was a delicious three bites, with a soft mulchy fish mixture that was topped by dill fronds.

Second to the left was a golden palm-sized pithivier, with a buttery pastry and dense game-y middle, and dots of blackberry jam and peppery nasturtium leaves on top.

Then there was a rectangular slice of brioche with shredded West Coast crab that was anointed with a fresh peridot-coloured apple gel and tiny cubes of the fruit.

The final savoury was probably my favourite, but mainly because of the addictive pickled walnut gel that was dotted onto the squishy butternut squash and feta tart.

Next, a pause to breathe and sip our tea - I’d gone for the white peony, and mum had chosen an Earl Grey. We were primed and ready, with an eagle-eyed focus. Four cakes lay ahead.

Mum was getting rebellious, and chose to deviate from our left to right formation, so she could dig straight into the pinkie-length banoffee and walnut slice, since “I like the look of that one”.

It was gooey in all the right places, with a biscuity layer, then a palate-coating layer of dulce de leche, with crispy bits of banana and walnut on top.

Its neighbour - the lemon meringue tart -was a classic, with runny lemon curd and an Italian meringue lid.

Then there was a macaron. I’m not a fan of these, but that’s my foible, not theirs. This was a pretty bramble and vanilla one - snow white with streaks of chocolate and freeze dried berries.

The final cake was a beast, as it was almost the size of a ping pong ball. We needed a drum roll, but managed a few bites of these malted chocolate choux buns, with a mottled exterior and frothy centre, and neatly piped-on creme pat bonnet.

The fluffy scones are neat and petite, thankfully. There are two raisin-studded fruities, and a couple of plains, plus clotted cream and strawberry jam.

Mum had tapped out at this point, but I valiantly had half of each variety.

We’d been booked into the latest sitting, at 4:30pm, and it was now almost 7pm, so they were turning tables for dinner bookings.

I could tell mum was enjoying herself, and didn’t want to leave. It was only another shot on the new-fangled stairlift that got her out the door.

As unofficial afternoon tea correspondent of The Scotsman and a wannabe 007 - the name’s Mum, Gaby’s Mum - she gives the experience a 9/10.

Gleneagles Townhouse, 39 St Andrew Square, Edinburgh (0131-322 3780, www.gleneagles.com)