I don't remember any of these things at WT. Maybe I was asleep.
It was usually back from a long day at work under the delightful leadership of a real bona-fide French Count, then a proper afternoon tea with Earl Grey tea and little finger cakes on china cake stand, followed later by a fine continental dining experience as one feasted on food prepared in the immaculate kitchen (with floors so clean you could have eaten off them) prepared by an Italian-trained chef formerly of The Savoy Grille. This was then followed by a pleasant evening watching Harry Enfield and a cup of cocoa before a refreshing night's sleep on a Hypnos mattress in an immaculate room cooled by a gently-purring air conditioner with no mosquitoes, cockroaches or rats to disturb one's gentle slumbers.
Occasionally, if we had the energy, we'd accompany the Reverend Gaylord Fudgepacker IV to a meeting at a kitchen run by his aunty where poor local ladies who had fallen from grace went for prayer, forgiveness and succour.
What fun, genteel days.