What is luxury? I'd take a guess it's something different for all of us, but if I were to win a major cash prize I do know what my luxury would be. I've given it a lot of thought, I've mentally spent the money in advance and I just know it would be money well spent. What I want is to come downstairs in the morning, wander into the dining room and there I'd find the sideboard laden with a proper breakfast. You know the sort of thing - not just bacon and eggs, but devilled kidneys, kedgeree, black and white pudding and kippers, as well an array of cereals, breads and fruits. I may or may not choose to have some or none of these, but my luxury would be to find all these things laid out and awaiting me whether I was going to avail of it or not. Oh yes, and my newspaper ironed and stitched and left on a handsome silver reading stand just to the right of my morning cappuccino.

In truth I've come close to this fantasy, but only temporarily. I found it in the Hotel San Geran in Mauritius, one the world's great hotels, where breakfast is taken very seriously indeed. It's a help-yourself breakfast that continues until elevenish, so even party goers are catered for. It's well divided up - there's a counter with fancy breads and cheeses, there's a pancake counter where they'll make them up for you sweet or savoury, there's an egg counter where you can get boiled, scrambled or fried eggs as well as omelettes, then there's the hot counter with various bacons and pork and beef sausages, there's a tropical fruit and cereal bar, and of course, champagne to go with the fresh orange juice.

Up to now I had to go to the Indian Ocean just to get a taste of my fantasy, but now that same fantasy has come to Dublin. I'd gone there to meet my son, Rocco and two English friends of his, Charlotte and Lavinia. I found three young people suffering from varying degrees of hangover, the worst affected being my son. 'Take heart,' I told him, 'the whole point of this Sunday brunch is to have a restorative effect upon those whose Saturday night was over-enjoyable.' He sat back in the passenger seat and said quietly, 'Uuunnnhhh', his eyelids flickering.

On arrival at The Westin - for this is where brunch can be got - we all became a little more animated. The hotel is architecturally interesting, since the old façade has been retained while the interior has been remodelled. The multi-storied atrium is worth a look. However on the day in question there wasn't much looking around, since three of the party wanted to sit down and begin the process of self restoration. The Exchange is where Sunday brunch takes place. It's a large, comfortable room decorated in a style best described as 'hotel plush'. Big, comfortable chairs set around big, generous tables swallow you up. A glass of champagne all round started us off.

Just like my fantasy, brunch is help-yourself. There's a counter with soups and breads, but all of us were dragged as though by a hidden force, directly to the seafood counter. Within moments all our plates contained much the same things - big, juicy oysters, smoked salmon, huge prawns and lovely sushi morsels. Back at the table conversation began to happen as the restorative powers of brunch and bubbly went to work. With our plates empty it was time to explore the hot counter.

I'm a sucker for some hotelware. The things you'd never have at home. Huge silver-domed hot plates with really heavy lids that have all manner of goodies inside - in this case chicken with truffles, perfectly cooked salmon, rice and potatoes, roast rib of beef, sausages obviously, and there was even an omelette bar. I couldn't resist that, a perfect cheese and onion omelette cooked then and there before me. Smashing. Between the four of us we had a taste of nearly every hot dish and they were all very good. Rocco was convinced that his salmon was quite the best he'd ever eaten.

Now we'd arrived early enough, around half-past one. The Westin brunch runs from twelve to four o'clock, soon to be five o'clock. If we'd come a little later maybe our appetites would have been sharper, but as it was we still managed a visit to the dessert counter. Choices there certainly were, but as soon as I'd seen the bread and butter pudding with a fresh crème anglaise the decision was made instantly. After the comforting feeling that you get from nursery food like this, I wanted the grown-up taste of coffee to finish. I'm happy to reprt they make good espressos in the Westin.

What becomes very clear after a meal like this is that names of meals are broad enough in their description. What we'd eaten was officially called brunch, but it could equally well have been a full three-course Sunday lunch. What's even more remarkable about the Westin brunch is its price; all that wonderful food for €30 a head. It would be easy enough to make the case that this is one of the better value eating experiences to be had in Dublin. I've made much of the help-yourself element, but there is also excellent and attentive service. Nice touches: you go up for another plateful and when you get back the table's all tidy again and your napkin's folded.

Apart from fulfilling a fantasy of mine, it seems to me that a brunch like this is a very affordable luxury. There's a real sense of restoration taking place amid the quiet buzz of the busy room. If I could only have the added luxury of a personal driver, I could easily find myself a regular bruncher.