The Sterling Pub, The Gherkin Building

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 square mile can see from your office. Honestly.

Anyway, having overcome Heavy's navigational challenges, me and Young Elvis rocked down the to the Sterling for a cheeky after work drink to celebrate his recent offer of a job in Hong Kong. I'd never been before. Don't worry, said Elvis, it's great in summer. Except of course this is London in October so the benefits of the outside space, as pictured, are not immediately obvious.

So inside we went ,where the 90% male, suited clientele were settling into that Friday session of lager and thinking about ladies. The latter of which they were clearly in the wrong place for. Heavy finally arrived, having managed to find a colleague who was actually bigger then him, and immediately began remarking on the lack of women. It is a city bar I quipped, what do you expect. Nevertheless what the Sterling is, or was, lacking is not so much women, but something far more important to a bar. An atmosphere. The place itself is all clean lines and modern furniture, but as in a newly refitted All Bar One, rather then Phillipe Starck. The drinks are your standard mix of lagers, spirits and wine by the pint. After a couple of hours of this party madness, and with the Don (who I was meant to be meeting) apparently stuck in the Wharf, I bade my farewells.

The Sterling has a lot going for it - location, great service, and in summer it's probably a sun trap. However unless you're someone who genuinely enjoys being surrounded by suited and booted men from the middle to lower echelons of banking and finance, I'd steer it a wide berth. Maybe there was a lot more to Heavy being unable to find it then I give him credit for.

The Long Good Thursday - 1802, Canary Wharf

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, but other documentaries have confirmed that the place was a dump - a far cry from the Cool Britannia era that marked the beginning of my London life. Of course this can be a controversial view. Particularly among the cockney and fashionista crowds that I know, who adore London past and present with the reverence one might bestow upon a rock star or similar. However one area which everyone agrees does not enjoy the best of reputations is Docklands, now rebranded and famous as Canary Wharf - the star of the Long Good Friday, and the self-appointed 'Hong Kong' of London.

I was out there last week to 'celebrate' KZ's leaving bash from a very well-known media company which she held at 1802 - arguably the best bar in that funny part of the world. 1802 which was originally a rum and sugar warehouse, has since been given the conversion treatment and is now a highly stylised bar and restaurant which weirdly also doubles up as a museum. Only in London.

What makes 1802 unique in these neck of the woods is that its one of the only non-chain bar / venues in the area, and you can tell. A cool DJ spinning his discs while city (as opposed to pretty) young things knock bar exotic lagers and very decent wine makes for a nice bar. Best of all is the West India Quay location which means loads of outside space set against a 'Hong Kong'esque backdrop make it a very pretty little drinking place. I haven't eaten there yet - not many people I know have, but those that have swear by the food, and given the ample evidence of their expertise in gastro matters through their thickening waistlines, I'm happy to accept that. KZ had as ever attracted a sterling crowd including such Wharf luminaries as the Don and the Magician for whom age, marriage and children seems to have had little if any effect on their social lives. Outstanding.

But back to the bar. The wharf isn't everyone's cup of tea, and one has to admit that despite the frequently festive atmosphere, particularly on the Quay, the place can be a little... sterile. However 1802 is a great spot for a bit of drinking alfresco and it certainly heats up later on. I have been many times before. I no doubt will visit again.

Living in Sin – Living Room and Strawberry Moons, Heddon Street

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 definitely not the country, but it isn’t really the suburbs either. Rather it’s a collection of people who like semi-detached houses, Chinese takeaways, 4 X  4’s, Waterloo train station and shopping in Waitrose. In that order. Plus someone even tutted at me when I went to open a beer on the train. I mean tutting – who ever does that in real life?

However it is obviously good for kiddies (why people who live in these areas say kiddies instead of kids or children I’ll never know), and given the houses that these people live in its very good for barbecues. Thus the reason I found myself at the Quiff and Texas Embassy girls place for a superb afternoon of sunshine, drinks, and several variations of meat, not to mention some pretty damned fine company. However after several hours of the Engineer and I enlightening (or some might say boring) the other guests on the intricacies of rugby, Heavy D declared time and we headed into town to meet his dear friend Radio 4 for a cheeky vino at Living Room in Heddon Street.

Living Room is one of those bars that I have spent many an evening in with the Northerner given its close proximity to fashion city, and it is a splendid place. I’d never been on a Saturday before mind you, and was pleasantly surprised that the normal collection of Mayfair suits and fashion buyers had been replaced by good natured tourists and overloaded shoppers all enjoying the al fresco drinking and general ambience of the street. The bar serves a great selection of wine by what seems the pint, and has some nice laid back ‘lounge bar’ music going on which isn’t as bad as it sounds. The place is hardly hip but everyone pays a lot of attention to how they look which seems to pay off. By coincidence I even bumped into the Don who was on a night out with an ‘acquaintance’. Whatever. It was good to see him and after bading farewell to Radio 4, we rounded off the night at the atrociously down market Strawberry Moons where we caught up with the Don and his ‘acquaintance’. This bar is an institution and with its cheesy music, oversized cocktails and fun and frills mix, it’s a hen party magnet. Which of course tends to attract a certain type of fella. Ånd after several hefty beers Heavy and I decided to call it a night after the staggering realisation that we had finally stumbled upon a bar too downmarket even for us. And given that I have spent a night at the Reflex in Cardiff that is saying something.

But the Living Room is definitely a great watering hole, and Heddon Street on a sunny evening is a superb place to soak in all that’s good about the West End. And even dear old Strawberry Moons held up well in the spotlight. Although I suspect a lot of their patrons are from the commuter belt.