Exchanging roof gardens for a square - Exchange Square

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 feature that contrasts nicely to the urban uber-hip persona of the bar itself. Heavy D, as ever, was available so we both wobbled on down. One small problem. The terrace, albeit fully functional wasn't open. 'Private parties only senor' said the barman who I suspect wasn't local. The logic wasn't obvious to us or the bored looking hipsters draped over the furniture, so we bade our farewells and strolled 50 metres down the road for a bit of sunshine and Kirin's at Exchange Square.

You have to hand it to the English. In Europe if you get a clear bit of space behind a public amenity they'll turn it into a park with water features and the like. The English turn it into a glorified garden bar. Albeit with a water feature. Situated just behind Liverpool St station, Exchange Square is the effectively the border where the City meets Shoreditch. No pretty young things or hipsters at this place. The men are all dressed like they've stepped straight out of an Austin Reed catalogue, while the highly out-numbered women are appropriately corporate conservative. It's a bit like drinking in Canary Wharf - but without the river views. For bars you have a Davy's - a dull version of Jamies; and a Corney and Barrow - an interesting version of a Jamies. Spoilt for choice then.

However in spite of these 'features' the place actually works very well. It's a natural sun-trap that's buzzy and sets you up for the evening very nicely. The service was sharp, the beers worked a treat. It wasn't the QOH, but it was a lot of fun. I think its best to ignore me in future.

East is Best

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 recognise and is probably all the better for that.

The Northerner was out with some of the fashion set on a pub crawl of Gay Soho, so the call went out and Heavy D (formerly Big D, lest you were wondering), the Caister boy, the Engineer and yours truly all descended upon the Golden Heart on Commercial Street. The Golden Heart effortlessly mixes together old East End locals, with the creative and financial services set that have encroached on its territory, and manages it all with aplomb. An old fashioned jukebox and a steady flow of beers saw the crew singing along heartily to Rod Stewart's greatest hits - something I feel we managed very well, although I don't think the collection of French designers sat next to us thought so. And people say the French have sophisticated tastes.

From there we stumbled up Brick Lane, with the obligatory stop at the legendary Brick Lane Beigel before finishing the night at the Shoreditch version of Beach Blanket Babylon. This place gets some bad press and I'm not quite sure why. The place is more Peaches Geldof then Alexis Chung, and there's an awful lot of Class A action going on in there which I guess isn't everyones thing. However Heavy D certainly appreciated the pretty young things bouncing around the place and a great DJ throwing some good tunes down , accompanied by a steady flow of cocktails kept the crew entertained for several hours of mayhem.

One final point. I'm not sure that the crew's 'undercover polic chic' style suited the vibe of the place. Or any place for that matter. I am very sure it won't catch on. Next week we'll try the estate agent look.