tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83652665470573944712011-11-28T00:35:47.429ZAn alternative guide to bars and restaurants in the UK and abroad.Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.comBlogger1101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-19452776694044649472011-10-10T10:03:00.001+01:002011-10-10T10:04:58.518+01:00

"Tuesday is the new Thursday," said the hunky Australian waiter as he took us to our table. And judging by the number of people out celebrating in the Folly on this particular Tuesday, I think he was right.The Folly is part of the Drake and Morgan group that has brought us The Refinery, Parlour, Anthologist, and The Drift. And of the group (barring the Parlour in Canary Wharf, which I have yet to

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-6236266110323890272011-09-10T09:58:00.001+01:002011-10-10T10:01:59.207+01:00

Covent Garden is a funny place. If you venture into the tourist trap that is the market square, you will find many of the worst pubs, bars and restaurants in London. Yet a few streets back are some of city’s best shops, and tucked in between the theatre land eateries is arguably its hippest members’ club.The Hospital Club on Endell Street was developed with London’s creative set in mind. The club

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-73158159074964308652011-08-25T03:52:00.000+01:002011-10-10T09:57:56.975+01:00

I love Soho. While other areas come in and out of fashion (Islington and Notting Hill being noticeably out, and Shoreditch on its way), Soho always has, and probably always will have, that thing that makes it special.The mix of people - fashionistas, designers, musicians, film makers, market traders, retailers and tourists – and venues - bars, restaurants, and high street and sex shops - is what

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-20713271491859060542011-08-17T09:49:00.000+01:002011-10-10T09:52:38.482+01:00

I put it down to the Mad Men effect. The advertising-based story set in Manhattan seems to have inspired a new wave of retro in recent years that has made that era cool.Everything from the clothes your parents wore to the furniture they bought has become de rigueur styling for the modern urbanite. This influence has extended to Britannia, as anyone who is watching the wonderful BBC news drama,

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-91963402569540135762011-08-15T20:48:00.000+01:002011-10-10T09:49:48.868+01:00

I am pleased to report that salt is making a comeback. For years it seemed this staple seasoning (for most of us of a certain age) was on the way to being banned from cooking altogether.We all heard the arguments as salt was blamed for everything from obesity to diabetes, with a healthy (or not) does of high cholesterol thrown in. The knock-on effect was that people stopped cooking with it. Not

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-34319007860729315112011-08-01T15:45:00.000+01:002011-10-10T09:48:14.011+01:00

Isn’t London just so New York nowadays? And I’m not just talking about the increase in diners, coffee shops and Jewish-styled delis, but the skyline, which amongst other things, has made the opening shots of The Apprentice such compulsive viewing.The latest addition to the cityscape is the Heron Tower on Bishopsgate, which is a stones throw from Liverpool Street Station. At 46 floors and striking

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-81293496613153217762011-07-20T16:45:00.002+01:002011-07-20T16:48:46.572+01:00

It shows the regard in which we hold Champagne in that we so often use it to describe an aspirational lifestyle. By which, we normally mean hobnobbing with celebs at openings or private members club, dining at the finest restaurants, and travelling first class.It's amazing that what is essentially a bottle of alcohol has so many positive connotations attached to it. I mean, when did you ever hear

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-57390932614370455182011-07-20T16:44:00.002+01:002011-07-20T16:49:42.399+01:00

"Blame it on the rain," sang the much derided (but for my money, grossly under-rated) Milli Vanilli. And that’s what was going through the mind of this bar reviewer as I braved monsoon conditions en route to St James' Park to attend the preview of 51 Buckingham Gate’s Summer Courtyard of Music.The evening definitely had promise. Marketed as The Summer Music Season, the hotel have booked a series

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-975219449665685152011-07-20T16:42:00.001+01:002011-07-20T16:43:59.782+01:00

There's something to be said for tapping into the start of a trend. For example, the gastropub revolution in the UK that began in the mid-nineties with the now legendary Eagle on Farringdon Road.The Northerner and I were fortunate enough to be there (or there about) when those pioneering pubsters decided that stringy roasts and overcooked veg was not what punters were looking for. Cue French

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-60511410549638776492011-07-08T04:41:00.000+01:002011-10-10T09:44:59.255+01:00

For those of you who watch A Place in the Country (and the chances are that if you’re reading this, you probably do) will know that the Cotswolds rates highly as a destination for City types in search of a rural home. Commutable and chocolate box picturesque, this part of the country seems to encapsulate everything good about England, albeit in a very Richard Curtis way.Yet it was a part of the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-4761969640167904082011-06-19T16:40:00.001+01:002011-07-20T16:42:14.274+01:00

Going out with your work mates can be a challenge. Going drinking is easy. You just pick the bar that is the least offensive to the majority of the imbibers. That’s how All Bar One, Corney and Barrow and other chains operate - by offering a safe, if not slightly boring, environment. Dining with your colleagues is different.For a start, you have to take notice of people’s dietary requirements. Do

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-51196741671221168772011-06-11T16:39:00.001+01:002011-07-20T16:40:38.012+01:00

How do people manage to keep abreast of the number of private members clubs in London? And by 'members clubs', I’m not talking about your gentlemen-only, port-quaffing, cigar-puffing gigs that attract the same sort of people that enjoy fox hunting.What we actually have are a whole host of venues aimed squarely at the readership of this site. Well, at least the ones who aren’t quite ready for

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-77986257981317793152011-05-23T16:37:00.001+01:002011-07-20T16:38:59.813+01:00

I do not know many people who like estate agents. In most people’s estimation, they sit alongside tabloid journalists, parking attendants, and nightclub bouncers in the low-life pecking order. They’re still a shade above investment bankers, of course.However, there is a reason that they are held in such low regard (estate agents, not bankers). Who else promises you an exclusive viewing of a

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-38746139389297517462011-05-14T16:35:00.001+01:002011-07-20T16:37:20.254+01:00

When does a place officially become a favourite? The restaurant you always fall back on when you’re in the area or are making a recommendation. The pub where the bar staff recognise your face. The nightclub where the bouncers greet you with a nod and a smile.We all have them. Some of them come about because they are so good we can't resist returning. Others are because they are convenient. Aurora

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-64495322889769595142011-05-01T12:04:00.000+01:002011-05-17T12:05:41.013+01:00

The Laughing Gravy, 154 Blackfriars Road, SouthwarkIts funny where this job takes you to. When you first set out to be a bar reviewer you envisage that your evenings will be spent at the West End’s finest establishments quaffing champagne with celebrities whom you regale with Oscar Wilde like witticisms and anecdotes. Your celebrity grows and you become a brand in your own right, off to live the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-79066694214836263012011-04-21T12:01:00.000+01:002011-05-17T12:03:10.750+01:00

Brawn, Bethnal Green, 49 Columbia Road, E2 7RGI live under the illusion (or is it delusion) of being fashionable. I perpetuate this by drinking at the right bars, buying catwalk-influenced clothes and having a partner – the Northerner – who is downright on-trend, stylishly cool. Sadly there are many things about me that give it away. The fact that when I wear those aforementioned clothes I look

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-35405091770687871152011-04-14T11:59:00.001+01:002011-05-17T12:01:04.853+01:00

Barrio is a Spanish word meaning district or neighbourhood. However in the US barrio is more commonly used to refer to lower-class areas with largely Spanish-speaking residents - the Latino equivalent of a "ghetto". Islington, which for those who don’t know it is North London’s answer to Clapham and is anything but a barrio. A once vibrant, multicultural and artistic areas in 80’s / early 90’s

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-61183409073984141512011-04-04T11:53:00.002+01:002011-05-17T11:57:43.262+01:00

When I first arrived in the UK from the third world islands of the South Pacific that I call New Zealand, I chanced upon a new and innovative way of eating food. Tapas was a concept unheard of in early nineties Polynesia (which becomes obvious when you see the size of people down there) and as a food style quickly became a favourite of mine. Of course as a fashion, tapas quickly went the same way

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-38726327531898723352011-03-30T10:39:00.004+01:002011-03-30T10:41:11.560+01:00

Superclubs were meant to be a thing of the past. Made famous with the likes of Studio 54 in the seventies, these cathedrals to dance went on to become aspirational destinations in their own right. The UK was at the leading edge of the superclubs scene, from the Ibiza-inspired Cream and Pascha, through to the south London behemoth that was the Ministry of Sound (probably the defining club for my

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-33572977695139701292011-02-28T10:02:00.000Z2011-03-02T10:03:38.874Z

The culture of the celebrity chefs is a recent, but now constant, feature of UK life. Those at the very top of the foodie chain enjoy considerable fame and fortune; perhaps not in the same league as actors and rock stars, but certainly on par with top footballers.However, the subtle but important difference is that when you go to see Chelsea or Manchester United play, the likes of Drogba and

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-15021171549567548062011-02-20T10:00:00.000Z2011-03-02T10:01:21.984Z

One of the questions people often ask me is why I insist on focussing on City bars. After all, as these folks are quick to remind me, there are many great bars all over London which clearly I either haven’t been too, or simply haven’t heard of.Well, New Year and new start then. And given I spend just as much of my social life in Soho and Shoreditch (not to mention those great suburbs south of the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-74167197462828607852011-02-05T09:57:00.000Z2011-03-02T09:59:27.281Z

There's a certain glamour attached to the Prohibition era - the Charleston, gangsters, illegal speakeasies. In credit-crunched Britain, one could argue the time is rife for our own bit of '30s-style indulgence, and this is a challenge which Nightjar has taken up with aplomb.The Nightjar is a speakeasy-style cocktail bar that, from its drinks menu and interior to the music, attempts to recreate

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-5376211959499622262011-01-30T13:16:00.002Z2011-01-30T13:19:58.963Z

Guilty Pleasures are now a ubiquitous part of London’s nightlife. You know the drill. Take a once-famous nightclub, dress it up in ironic décor, and play music that you might love and even own (Toto, Foreigner, the Kids from Fame), but would never admit to. (Well certainly not to anyone that you were trying to impress.)And in the City of London’s bar world, there is one place that is without

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-73008032990628894542011-01-10T16:27:00.003Z2011-01-10T16:32:35.801Z

Readers of the diatribes I pass off for reviews will be aware that I’m not a fan of hotel bars, and I tend to be similarly underwhelmed by their restaurant counterparts.The caveat, of course, is that when the Northerner and I travel, we often eat in these restaurants, with the Malmaison in Edinburgh and the W Hotel in Istanbul being two examples of how well these places can work.Closer to home,

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-36383223936796570242010-11-25T08:17:00.002Z2010-12-01T08:19:21.023Z

According to Wikipedia, déjà vu is the feeling that one has previously witnessed or experienced a new situation, which is what I felt when I stopped by The Anthologist bar in Gresham Street to catch up with Pinstripe and the Detective.And not just because my so-called friends didn’t shown up. The reason became clear when I visited the Refinery Bar in Bankside later that day.For those of you who

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-16887726228890646832010-11-14T08:15:00.003Z2010-12-01T08:20:24.130Z

"It doesn’t get any better then this!" shouts TV Chef and entrepreneur John Torode on the Masterchef television show.But is he referring to his landmark bar/restaurant - the now legendary Smiths of Smithfields (SOS) - or the relative newcomer that is the Luxe in Spitalfieds?What was once a Grade II-listed flower market building is now The Luxe with high windows, framed in ornate wrought iron, and

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-73852309093174805792010-11-05T08:11:00.004Z2010-12-01T08:22:56.827Z

If Mad Men’s Don Draper lived in noughties London, he would probably hang out at the Redhook.Redhook89 Turnmill Street London EC1M 5QU, 020 7065 6800www.redhooklondon.comWith its '50s and '60s furnishings, lush leather booth-style seating, and mix of chrome and exposed brickwork, Redhook transports you into 1960’s Manhattan. Or even to the neo-lounge world of Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn’s

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-56949080178386846532010-10-10T08:08:00.002+01:002010-12-01T08:21:24.229Z

Anyone looking to identify cultural differences between Americans and Brits need look no further than their drinking habits. Anise9 Devonshire SquareLondon EC2M 4YL020 7626 5000http://www.cinnamon-kitchen.com/anise.aspxWhereas Americans, and particularly Californians, see hotel bars as a viable drinking option (and in some cases, an aspirational one), Brits tend to view them as a pre-dinner or

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-64936451290192842072010-09-13T08:06:00.001+01:002010-12-01T08:08:42.114Z

Has it really been 15 years since All Bar One first opened its doors on an unsuspecting London public? And ten years since it last opened a new bar?The ABO chain has been criticised by many over the years (this writer included) for applying its Starbucks-like model to one of things that British most cherish - drinking. However, it would be churlish to give not these bars credit where it’s due.

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-8480096794077174972010-09-01T08:01:00.004+01:002010-12-01T08:06:09.055Z

For those of you who don’t know London, there is a small but clearly-defined border between the suit-wearing financial district that is the City, and the style-leading triumvirate of all things cool - Shoreditch, Hoxton and Clerkenwell.In bar world, this means a transition from wine bar chain heavyweights, such as Corney and Barrow and Jamie’s, to a land of independent boozers and cocktail bars

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-14932745217217349682010-08-30T22:27:00.003+01:002010-08-30T22:29:32.851+01:00

Staycations became the must-have holiday for credit-crunched city workers in 2009 and the trend shows no sign of dying as we enter the second half of 2010 (something that may satisfy and alarm our coalition government in equal measures).Always ones to milk a trend for all its worth, my erstwhile partner-in-crime (the Northerner) and I decided visit Edinburgh for a summer break. It wasn't quite

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-28296877467125461132010-07-25T21:32:00.004+01:002010-07-25T21:36:49.763+01:00

Those of us who are old enough to remember getting drunk in the nineties (which happened to be my friends and me on this particular evening) remember a very different Electricity Showrooms.This bar is what it says on the tin - it is located in a refurbished showroom at where folks once shopped for toasters, Hoovers and the like. However the venue that we old-timers remember was rather different.

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-78128529692877401952010-06-16T08:40:00.006+01:002010-06-16T08:42:21.158+01:00

For those of us brought up on a diet of 1950s Hollywood movies, the diner remains a powerful symbol of all things American. These shimmering stainless steel eating houses have made menu staples such as pancakes, French toast and grits, and bottomless cups of coffee as familiar to us as the traditional full English. By name at least.Though London has recently become awash with diner-style eateries

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-32153258671289794242010-05-09T12:12:00.027+01:002010-05-10T10:34:37.364+01:00

Anyone who says its grim up North has clearly not been to Manchester. Several decades of regeneration and reinvigoration inspired by the music, gay and student scenes respectively have, given it a social diversity and energy better then anywhere in the UK outside of London. And I don't mean that in a patronising way. But having been to Manchester many times in the last few years (to visit the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-20167160536455015552010-05-06T10:24:00.003+01:002010-05-10T10:27:18.553+01:00

Has it really already been 10 years since Shoreditch shoved aside Notting Hill and Soho and established itself as the centre of London 'cool'?For those of us old enough to remember those hedonistic days out east, venues such as Cantaloupe, Dragon, the Great Eastern Dining Room - and the wonderfully named Dreambagsandjaguarshoes - set the template for how great London bars could be. Amongst that

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-90743310585557591682010-04-27T11:57:00.008+01:002010-04-27T15:01:47.840+01:00

It’s funny how busy you can get doing the drinking thing. The sharp-eyed amongst you will have noticed that I’ve been moonlighting recently as an online bar reviewer for Here is the City News. This has required me to become more ‘professional’ in my approach and cut down on the character driven reviews on this site that millions of people have yet to see. I’ll let you judge how successful I have

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-81727574405179055952010-04-24T12:43:00.003+01:002010-04-24T12:45:01.719+01:00

It was not so long ago that any London pub which specialised in ales and bitters tended to be frequented by people of a more 'earthy' nature. Criminals, in other words.However, on the back of a loose association with the organic movement, real ales have made inroads with the type of drinker who more recently would have been necking European lagers or champagne. Often at the same time.One place

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-91006045323491091452010-04-11T08:08:00.004+01:002010-04-11T08:10:31.525+01:00

If there was a premier league of bars and clubs, then the mighty Soho House group would always be at - or near - the top.In central London, the original Soho House has successfully usurped the Groucho Club as the media’s favourite watering hole, while out East, its younger sister private members' club, Shoreditch House reigns supreme as the bar destination of choice for the fashionable

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-42267436570950316862010-03-28T17:25:00.003+01:002010-03-28T17:29:46.771+01:00

You can tell a lot about the culture of a place by how its planners choose to treat the humble town square.In some towns, the square becomes a market stall in the weekend at which you can purchase high quality meat, vegetable, and dairy products. These come complete with cafes at which you can indulge in the local delicacies while washing them down with your beverage of choice. In some Northern

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-2422648026366637242010-03-18T08:15:00.000Z2010-03-18T08:26:49.685Z

When I was a child we had a pet magpie. Not the cute curious beagle like birds that you have in the UK but the crow sized flying pitbulls that terrorise children in the South Pacific. Well our friends children anyway.The Magpie on Bishopsgate is a pub that is more cute then threatening, which judging by its busy Friday night crowd is something that appeals to all comers. Tucked away on a side

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-48453010344657059222010-03-15T08:56:00.008Z2010-03-15T09:48:04.102Z

It was with great sadness that I received the email from my friends at this once great bar, that the East Room, along with Sosho Match had fallen victim to the recent fire on Great Tabernacle Street. Many a drunken evening had been spent both on that rooftop and in the bar by yours truly, the Northerner, and Heavy D amongst others, indulging in the fine wines and great ambience that the place had

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-38351908342379369672010-02-26T16:31:00.013Z2010-03-11T08:06:17.693Z

A sure way of raising a heckles of anyone who lives in South London is to mention the C word. That's right, Clapham. That stretch of land between the SW4 and SW11 postcodes that is maligned as it is admired by all and sundry. The reasons for this animosity depend on who you ask, but for some people they've never forgiven the place for becoming a South of the river version of Chelsea.Within

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-72528967798232090342010-02-19T09:56:00.007Z2010-02-21T21:35:13.927Z

Some bars and pubs, whether it be by accident or design, have a purpose. Champagne bars, ostensibly for romance seem to cater more for business deals and job offers. City cocktail bars are in reality pick-up joints. Antipodean and Irish theme bars are where badly dressed people go to get drunk. Sitting amongst these bars are a genre of pub which as a consequence of location, a relatively high

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-19325859862012677572010-02-15T07:00:00.008Z2010-02-16T07:00:00.316Z

It's amazing how quickly a month goes by. That's how long it's been since my last posting, which given the considerable time and effort I've put into London bars recently is a tad shameful. Something that the Engineer was only too quick to remind me on Saturday night. So getting back on track, I'll talk about my January visit to Revolution Bar in Leadenhall. Remarkably I was there for 'work' as

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-30478759129098774752010-01-13T21:55:00.023Z2010-01-18T11:02:10.102Z

Chain bars are a much maligned category on this blog, but I have to admit that there are some exceptions to that rule. One relative newcomer to the drinks scence and a recent 'discovery' of mine is Be at One - the nine strong cocktail bar chain that is dotted at the hip and not so hip locations of London town.I checked out the Spitalfields version (hip location) on the Bishopsgate side of the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-1059904334352308342010-01-09T14:55:00.019Z2010-01-11T10:40:31.945Z

Happy New Year readers, and I hope your first few days of 2010 have been kind to you. Which in the UK at the moment means being able to leave your house without snowshoes. And people talk about global warming. A socially active and highly alcoholic December 09 meant that I did not blog as much as I should have, and as a consequence have a backlog of blogs to publish. So my first resolution of the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-61761062231090999362009-12-14T15:50:00.015Z2009-12-29T18:31:56.080Z

A friend of mine is fond of saying, "who says Rick Astley is coming back, as far as I'm concerned he's never left!." And the same might be said for seventies and eighties soft rock - one of the more maligned genres of my not so short lifetime, seems not only to be back, but fully embraced by the hip and the beautiful of London town. And few bars are as hip or beautiful at the moment as The Queen

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-79185379636498337122009-12-03T06:59:00.025Z2009-12-05T13:58:33.375Z

When you think of Mexican restaurants images of sombreros, tequila shots and fajitas come to mind. And not in a good way. Well you won't find any such paraphernalia at Boho Mexica in Spitalfields, one of the new wave of hip Mexican joints that have appeared in London over the last year.The Northerner and I were up for a bit of Friday night lights in Shoreditch, so after kicking off at the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-84358839542218170442009-11-24T17:53:00.015Z2009-11-28T18:23:38.224Z

There are big nights and then there are ridiculously big nights. On what was my second visit in as many weeks to The Luxe in Spitalfields we'd gathered together a crew of occasional and frequent imbibers to celebrate all things Friday. John Torode's - as in Smiths of Smithfields and occasionally MasterChef - latest bar has copped more then its fair share of criticism much of which is hard to

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-20955368707685575932009-11-17T11:15:00.018Z2009-11-18T13:28:07.590Z

Losing luggage is not a great way to start a holiday. This is exacerbated if you happen to be in a country where the men are 1) considerably smaller then you 2) dress much better then you do and 3) most importantly tend to wear a very 'fitted' style (read muscle shirts) . Tight stuff. Fortunately Lisbon is one of the best party towns the Northerner and I have visited, with bars and food haunts

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-1341407180967299872009-11-04T09:38:00.015Z2009-11-04T12:11:00.744Z

The once much maligned gastropub concept is now a fully accepted and important piece of London's social tapestry, and many pubs are continuing to develop and push the concept to new extremes. In the most positive sense. One of the best examples of the Britain's answer to the French bistro is the Princess of Shoreditch, which the Northerner and I were lucky enough to dine at the other night.

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-74884378139801890572009-11-02T07:51:00.022Z2009-11-03T11:23:47.822Z

Probably the most American of celebrations after Thanksgiving is Halloween, an event that is now firmly established on the London social calendar. Yet its been something that I've studiously avoided, until last year in New York when I realised how much fun it is dressing very badly and dancing 'in character'. With that in mind the Northerner and I duly accepted the invitation from Betty Boo and

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-10368522596700060102009-10-23T06:50:00.011+01:002009-10-24T13:55:38.137+01:00

Heading up North can be an emotional experience for the Northerner. More then once I turned around only to find her getting all misty-eyed over concoctions such as 'parmos', half and halfs, chips and curry sauce and other delicacies unique to the North East. However as she is more then ready to shout about, the NE of England has its fair share of beauty, culture and refinement, all of which I

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-89900743118281977722009-10-17T14:40:00.010+01:002009-10-18T10:56:45.686+01:00

Hybrid shopping experiences have been the rage for a while now. Retailers with coffee shops, tea rooms and occasionally bars. Coffee shops with hairdressers. Pubs with vintage clothes shops. You name it, they've tried it, usually to good effect. Although I draw the line at estate agents cum cafes. However the classic combination of music store and bar is nearly as old as I am, yet still so

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-72019758106122039722009-10-08T07:06:00.011+01:002009-10-12T10:25:56.763+01:00

The Gherkin is one of the most iconic buildings in our capital and a wonderful and relatively recent, addition to the London skyline. Or so you would think, although it proved a tad confusing for Heavy D when I suggested we meet for drinks at the downstairs bar - The Sterling. Where is the Gherkin? he asked. Well, try the large, gherkin shaped building which you can and every other person in the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-82735928879948817432009-10-05T06:44:00.009+01:002009-10-05T07:07:05.099+01:00

Apparently bitter and ales are very good for colds. This is according to the Rock Star, who although not a medical man, is the son of one and a highly seasoned drinker so in many ways perfectly qualified to comment. I bore that in mind as the Northerner and I, cold ridden and a tad hungover, headed to the tourist trap that is the George in Borough High Street near London Bridge, and amongst

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-74704610217020284822009-09-27T17:44:00.017+01:002009-09-27T18:17:43.033+01:00

A sense of deja vu is common amongst those of us who spend too much time in bars and restaurants. Sometimes places look and seem eerily familiar only for you to realise that they are part of a 'chain' albeit a subtle one (read, different names) Often a venue will simply rename and redesign itself as a supposedly hip new spot - which invariably is never the case. However Luytens on Fleet Street

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-29113636590073731102009-09-18T06:16:00.007+01:002009-09-20T12:37:51.210+01:00

For an old bar hand like myself most of the hyped places I visit tend to at best fall a little short of expectations. Not so Shoreditch House which the Northerner and I finally checked out recently to see what all the fuss is about. Frankly, the fuss is warranted as the 'Ditch' is beautifully designed, sizzingly atmospheric and topped off with the best view from a bar / club that I have seen in

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-82443630487253934172009-09-13T13:22:00.015+01:002009-09-14T11:14:12.007+01:00

You've got to hand it to American retailers - they do retail marketing and PR better then anybody. After all, they invented it. But it still makes me wonder as to why is it that the Americanos - supposedly puritanical and unhealthily obsessed with the body beautiful - rather then the Brits, still know how to throw a stonking, champagne and cocktail fueled party like no one else. What I'm talking

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-32196323405743936472009-09-07T11:00:00.009+01:002009-09-07T17:08:06.141+01:00

As a general rule, the Northerner and I don't venture too far from London town to socialise. And if we do, we're talking Paris, Marrakech or New York as opposed to Leeds, Ipswich or Bradford. Nevertheless with 'staycations' now very much on trend, as us being as affected by the credit crunch as any other social butterfly we decided to take a long weekend in the beautiful Georgian city of Bath.

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-45119631765805019712009-08-31T10:43:00.016+01:002009-08-31T11:26:34.277+01:00

There are some bars that take your breathe away in terms of visual impact,brilliance of thought and ambiance. And Callooh Callay (yes you heard that correctly) on Rivington Street in Shoreditch is one of those. Picking up the mantle from where the now legendary Loungelover left off, Callooh is is probably the most stylishly innovative London bar this fella has been to in a good few years. And

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-2768239228263447362009-08-25T14:17:00.006+01:002009-08-25T14:32:00.958+01:00

One of the challenges of writing a blog dedicated to your nightlife is avoiding repetition. Despite the fact that there are thousands of bars, restaurants and pubs in London town it stands to reason that you won't visit them all And of course there are some that become favourites, often merely for the reason that they are close to where you work or live, that you visit time and again. And there

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-49607081734406061962009-08-15T16:37:00.024+01:002009-08-17T09:25:57.809+01:00

Events don't get much cooler then a fashion book launch party, and so it proved when the Northerner invited me as her 'Plus One' to the designer's behind Junky Styling's bash to celebrate Wardrobe Surgery at the Future Gallery in the West End. I shan't talk to the fashion side of the evening, as the Northerner does it much better then I ever could in her wonderful blog ReDesign for Life but

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-72755048866881770352009-08-13T08:28:00.012+01:002009-08-16T22:28:56.670+01:00

There are three things which I tend to dislike in a pub. In no particular order they are; venues with an all male / suited clientele; Fosters (or a similarly cheap lager) on tap; and a large Sky Sports screen. Lad pubs in every sense. Each of these elements on their own is sometimes tolerable, but two or even worse all three condemns it to a place that shall not enjoy my patronage. And I’m sure

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-88587042507952312092009-08-10T14:09:00.010+01:002009-08-10T14:17:44.667+01:00

I first went to Sweden on a business trip in the late 90’s and there were two things that made a lasting impression on me. One was the snow. It was first time in my sheltered excuse of a life that I had encountered the heavy white stuff and sub-zero temperatures – the former of which was very pretty; the latter very cold.The second was the phenomenon known as ‘Big Wednesdays’ whereby shiploads

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-18228631801500508782009-08-03T09:31:00.020+01:002009-08-03T15:39:27.285+01:00

Good things, according to a hackneyed old phrase, come in small packages. A view which might be applied to both my destination and my companion on a sunny Friday evening in London town; although I suspect the latter aka the Rock Star, might be bemused by the description. However the venue, The Rake in Borough Market has no such qualms and what a nice little find it turned out to be.Although I

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-45439169658074868412009-07-31T07:02:00.028+01:002009-08-03T11:25:45.548+01:00

If there's one type of person that I find more generally annoying then an Australian it's a New Zealander. Self centred, self satisfied and generally selfish; and that's just their strengths. There's only so many conversations you can have about rugby, Crowded House, Hobbits and ahh....rugby before you realise that that old theory about island's isolating the mind may have some substance.

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-2338629173213812062009-07-27T20:10:00.015+01:002009-07-28T22:11:27.237+01:00

In Auckland in the eighties and nineties there used to be a nightclub called Staircase. And if memory serves me correctly it was a terrible place – bad music, bad look, bad entertainment. However it did have three claims to fame. First it was Auckland's most famously gay club. Not much competition at the time, but this is NZ we're talking about. Second it was occasionally hosted by a one-legged

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-15324304354441754752009-07-18T12:20:00.020+01:002009-07-21T17:27:28.654+01:00

I recently watched the Long Good Friday, the wonderful Bob Hoskins and Helen's Mirren film, and was struck by two things. First, the fact that it must be one of, if not the best British films of recent times. It's certainly the best gangster movie despite what the former Mr Madonna thinks. And second, what an awful, rundown god-forsaken place that London was back then. I know, it's only a movie,

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-60873974887142181582009-07-12T22:40:00.021+01:002009-07-23T15:46:08.358+01:00

Listening to feedback is not one of my strengths. As per the tabs at the base of this blog, if you don't think I'm funny, interesting or cool, then 1) I assume you don't know me; 2) you haven 't heard or read me; 3) you have a problem; or 4) a combination of points 1, 2 and 3. However every so often you have to doff your proverbial cap to someone who has both superior knowledge and experience in

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-41025373410100726842009-07-11T11:02:00.014+01:002009-07-12T11:43:44.489+01:00

Dieting is an ugly word in the small New Zealand town where I'm from. People don't talk about or understand the concept. They certainly don't do it. So when I met the Northerner and Heavy D at our old favourite the Golden Heart for a couple of after work sharpeners, and explained to them that yours truly was 'counting calories', they were sceptical to say the least. 'It's a health thing' I

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-91239724933155428062009-07-05T11:07:00.014+01:002009-07-05T11:49:48.117+01:00

It's all Greek to me, is an expression that I've never fully understood until my recent two week jaunt in this wonderful country. The Northerner and I were there for one of her best friends wedding, which took place on the truly beautiful but quiet island of Andros. Given the opportunity we turned it into a full on bar, beach and island hopping tour that included Syros, Mykonos and of course

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-54209901804224733792009-06-25T18:33:00.005+01:002009-06-25T18:46:31.589+01:00

So the plan was to continue writing this blog while on my annual two weeks of 'forced' vacation - which this year happens to be in the Greek islands.Sadly the three S's of traveling - sunshine, socialising and slurring have played havoc with my 'creativity' and the writing has simply not happened.So be it. I shall pick up the blog upon my return to the fair isles where I will pass comment on the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-54878468721785623142009-06-15T10:22:00.006+01:002009-06-15T15:54:25.231+01:00

Defining exactly what it is that makes a bar or pub bad can be tricky. One person’s upmarket and cool, is another person’s overpriced and pretentious. One person’s ‘party atmosphere and dancing’ bar is cheesy and laddish to others. However one thing that everyone seems to agree on though is that chain pubs are bad.This is perhaps unfair. For many years I loved a now departed chain of pubs that

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-54325595400699742812009-06-11T10:48:00.013+01:002009-06-15T15:53:54.358+01:00

Birthdays aren’t what they used to be. When we were younger we would go out with a gang of friends on a Friday night (regardless of what day your birthday was) and buy or be bought drinks until we fell over. Chips, burgers or food from a petrol station was the closest thing you had to a meal. Then the next day, severely hung-over we would try and convince our parents that our studies /part-time

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-69735039002805568262009-06-09T12:38:00.008+01:002009-06-09T15:58:20.760+01:00

This weekend may have been the tipping point. When I finally concede that going out drinking and partying hard all weekend is a young person’s game. A game from which a person should retire graciously not disgracefully. A game that isn’t good for you.The only problem is that it’s so much damned fun - so enough of the remorse and on with the recap. Friday night lights saw a motley crew of Heavy D,

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-8111454804425844782009-06-01T09:28:00.015+01:002009-06-04T06:24:18.310+01:00

I had I had never heard of the expression ‘commuter belt’ until I arrived in the UK. It took me a long time to realise what it meant, and even longer to know people who aspired to, or worse did actually live there. Yet as I sat on a train to Epsom over the weekend, I was still none the wiser as to why anyone on earth would want to become part of that scene. I mean it’s not the city, and it’s

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-38090027387956244912009-05-29T06:39:00.013+01:002009-05-29T13:38:59.773+01:00

The first time I ever had tapas was not in the sunshine in Seville, Valencia or many of the other splendid cities of Spain, but on a grey September evening in Clapham in South London on my first day in the Northern Hemisphere. Heavy D took it upon himself to introduce me to a dose of instant Iberian culture and we went to the venerable institution that is La Rueda on the Clapham High Street which

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-20051871649113494512009-05-23T12:07:00.026+01:002009-05-27T17:45:23.429+01:00

Defining what and who is cool is a tricky thing. Of course there are some absolutes. Obama is cool. Gordon Brown is not. Samuel L Jackson is cool. Lenny Henry is not. Bat for Lashes are cool. Coldplay are not. London and New York are cool. New Zealand and Australia, and in fact anyone from there are / is not. That's what you get for being born in the Antipodes. Friday night lights and the plan

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-43314408020401689172009-05-17T13:30:00.020+01:002009-05-19T06:43:48.365+01:00

I have never been to South America, so nearly everything I know about the continent is based on what I've seen on TV. So Brazil is samba, caipirinhas, Copa Cobana and beautiful people. Argentina is the tango, malbec, steak and beautiful people. And Colombia is ... drugs and beautiful people. Of course that's a ridiculous thing to think, but I think it's fair to say that Colombia has an image

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-73494335594416456602009-05-15T09:10:00.024+01:002009-05-17T14:13:30.916+01:00

Client entertainment, jollies, freebies or however you describe it, comes in many forms. In London you can up attend a fancy dress party and get drunk.   Or you can prepare a meal Hells Kitchen style and get drunk. Go ten pin bowling in funky Brick Lane and get drunk. Watch a major football or rugby game and get drunk. Take part, or witness a five aside Penalty Shoot Out competition with a former

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-38241390984196769972009-05-13T06:46:00.012+01:002009-05-15T14:56:17.601+01:00

A few years ago I had the good fortune to spend 11 days in sunny Cape Town. Ostensibly we were there on a business trip, but in reality we did a lot of lounging around the hotel pool, eating at the finest restaurants, taking in the sights and sounds of Table Mountain and the beaches, and bar-crawling and nightclubbing every single night. Oh and just occasionally we did some work. One of the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-91042697873093663382009-05-11T06:53:00.022+01:002009-05-11T22:49:37.923+01:00

A band will often speak of the difficult second album, whereas in cinema it is trilogies that often expose a director’s weakness. The Godfather Part 3 was terrible compared to its two predecessors. As was the third Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. Terminator, Lethal Weapon and Die Hard (although some might argue that the second was the worst) struggled by their third iterations. Even Police

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-80298669195173337882009-05-06T17:37:00.009+01:002009-05-06T20:48:12.602+01:00

A lot of people I know, including my good self, share a fascination with criminals. Not your average inner city crackhead of course – the ones that rob teenagers and elderly women, and deal drugs. But cool iconic criminals as portrayed in The Godfather, The Sopranos and The Wire. The ones who rob without care, murder innocent people, and deal drugs. The UK equivalent of these glamour crims is the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-55175809998073476962009-05-05T16:47:00.014+01:002009-05-11T17:02:19.196+01:00

Farmers Markets have become very fashionable in London over the last few years. Every middle class suburb worth its salt proudly has a market of its own, where on a either a weekly or monthly basis you can buy all sorts of farm reared items from ducks eggs to fine cheeses, with of course a large selection of meat, game and poultry. Much like a supermarket but outdoors, with less choice and more

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-32691988858736524062009-04-30T09:47:00.016+01:002009-04-30T11:30:57.934+01:00

In the eighties I lived in a flat above a restaurant owned by Miroslav. With his slicked back hair, aviator glasses, tight fitting black tee shirt, acid washed jeans, three inch heel boots and distressed brown leather jacket, he was the epitome of Italian style cool. He even owned a wardrobe of pastel suits. Inspirational. Of course, as you can probably tell by his name Miroslav was a Croatian

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-83891475985403205572009-04-27T10:58:00.007+01:002009-04-27T13:29:58.106+01:00

The Rock Star’s return from a two-week sabbatical down under was as good a reason as any to head out for drinks. Friday night lights saw us going back to the Golden Heart, the unassuming little boozer that is a mecca for East London hipsters. And us of course. Friday night hummed as fashionable young things influenced by but clearly not witness to the New Romantic movement of the 80’s, worked

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-57524746627968089192009-04-23T21:42:00.016+01:002009-04-30T08:31:04.444+01:00

The plan was to head to a roof terrace for a St George's day Pimms. The Queen of Hoxton's to be precise. It was after all a gloriously sunny Thursday, the QOH ,formerly known as Industry, is both very close to where I work and a very funky and hip bar - after all Pixie(not Peaches) Geldof drinks there. Better still the QOH comes equipped with a large 'English country garden' style terrace, a

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-75753624343039811072009-04-22T10:54:00.010+01:002009-04-30T08:29:20.779+01:00

People who have got to know me over the years will realise that I'm a reluctant champion of anything Australian. Wine - too 'big' and too much tannin; music - stadium rock for surfers; cities – suburbia based around shopping malls; food - burnt shrimps or fusion; fashion – beachwear, and beachwear; bars – need I mention the Walkabout chain? The list goes on. And don't even get me started on their

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-30939106640568353182009-04-18T12:58:00.015+01:002009-04-18T14:26:36.945+01:00

Mahiki in Mayfair seems to have become famous on the back of a certain pair of royal brothers, which is normally enough to put off a die hard republican (note the small 'r') like me. Fortunately the bar has a lot more to offer then wealthy toffs in polo shirts and baseball caps. Anyway, I hear they now go raving 'out East' nowadays. Friday night and a motley crew of commoners that included Heavy

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-68966340586170690042009-04-15T21:18:00.009+01:002009-04-30T08:29:44.033+01:00

Roof terraces are a particular passion of mine, and those that come complete with a fully stocked bar and cocktail waiter, preferably with a hefty dose of sunshine, are the perfect place to spend a summer evening. Wednesday’s unseasonably warm weather meant it was tools down early so I could meet the Northerner for a tipple at the East Room on Tabernacle Street.The East Room happens to be my

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-50707042316385054462009-04-09T08:17:00.013+01:002009-05-01T10:14:39.743+01:00

There are several drawbacks to writing a blog like this. First, you often are writing with a hangover which can affect the quality of your output. Second by writing with a hangover you demonstrate the poor quality of your output by resorting to naff songs as your article title. Third, in the course of producing a blog dedicated to going out , you inevitably are subject to hangovers.Hangovers

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-83149492598000285422009-04-04T12:41:00.019+01:002009-04-07T17:16:46.548+01:00

Nothing cuts through class barriers quite so effortlessly in London as the local pub. Around Spitalfields where I frequent, are a fine collection of old boozers where fashion designers and creatives, newly poor bankers and original East Enders all get merrily drunk together with that Dunkirk spirit that is unique to the British. This is not a London that fans of Richard Curtis movies would

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-91820420022989552922009-04-02T08:03:00.012+01:002009-04-30T08:35:28.044+01:00

Riots aren't what they used to be. When I arrived in this country everything that I heard about Notting Hill, Brixton and the Poll Tax made Britain seem like the last bastion of civil disorder. Not so the noughties where yesterday we all sat in the office enjoying our macchiatos watching one of the many LCD TV's on our floor and witnessed 4 protestors and 30 photographers kicking in the windows

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-92047773909819108612009-03-29T13:11:00.014+01:002009-04-30T08:37:41.428+01:00

The Indie girl's birthdays are always a highlight of the social calendar, so when the call went out for a night of getting trashed in Trailer Happiness on the Portobello Road, the Northerner and I didn't need much persuading.The Indie girl is one of the most popular people I know and her crowd of media, film and fashion types certainly hit all the right buttons in this bar, despite all of us

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-26916396610403723692009-03-27T11:56:00.026Z2009-04-30T08:36:12.254+01:00

Six months ago when I was on a social whirl of cocktail bars, clubs and restaurants in all the hot (and not so hot) spots in London town and NYC, a blog seemed the perfect place in which to show off how socially mobile and cool I am. Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Of course, by the time I got around to actually putting this little thing into action, not only has the credit

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-5177954053586494062009-03-25T08:09:00.011Z2009-05-06T13:42:47.930+01:00

A colleague of mine does guided walks as an aside. So when he suggested a 'freebie' Jack the Ripper tour around many of my favourite local haunts in East London a gang of about 40 marketers, PR's, graphic designers, event managers and yours truly duly took him up on the offer.Starting in Bishopsgate the tour took in many of the local drinking dens - from the sublimely hip Ten Bells on the

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-78274013828511935542009-03-21T08:52:00.011Z2009-05-06T13:42:20.371+01:00

The unseasonably good weather and a tough week at the office meant that Friday night drinks was always going to happen. After flirting with the idea of Muswell Hill, Shoreditch and Smithfields (why is sorting out a location always a chore), the Northerner and I retreated to the local, which is the Florence in Herne Hill. Hip Herne Hill is an alliteration that I never thought I'd write, and if

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-82670869781047350772009-03-19T09:40:00.017Z2009-04-30T08:30:24.440+01:00

Over the last week or so that I've been writing this little blog I've received more criticisms then I thought I had readers - which is five. In no particular order they have complained that - you're not writing as yourself, what's a pretty young thing? , your Bloody Mary recipe choice is wrong, you're not drinking Bloody Marys, and why do you continue to include your photo.So given my extensive

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8365266547057394471.post-47294491308725870542009-03-18T08:00:00.015Z2009-04-30T08:34:53.246+01:00

Another night out, another department store. But Libertys membership shopping nights are kind of special. They come complete with pretty young things clutching credit cards and designer accessories while quaffing top notch chablis. All against the backdrop of catwalk model staff dressed head-to-toe in Libertys' amazing designer collections supported by a brass band, and as ever several quirky

Big Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13526186376833991229noreply@blogger.com0