There are many cabaret clubs in London,but Café de Paris off Piccadilly Circus is one of the oldest. It’s celebrating its ninetieth anniversary this year, which by London standards – whereby it isn’t uncommon for short-lived ventures to pop up and down in a matter of months – is practically venerable. Despite the club’s sparkling history […]
I’m going to come right out and say it: Breakfast Club Bingo is by a million miles the most fun you can have in London for a fiver. Or £5.75, I suppose, once you’ve added the DesignMyNight booking fee.
I am currently writing this from my bed of shame and guilt after an epic episode of what my fun and fruity workmate would describe as ‘carbicide’. I’d gone along to the new branch of Vapiano in Soho with the ever-trusty Carla Juniper, and we’d accidentally eaten, well, everything. We had to be practically bowled out […]
I have always secretly fancied taking a RIB ride down the Thames, even though it does seem like a bit of a touristy thing to do. After all, speedboats are fun. Especially when the chap at the wheel tries to do boat wheelies while the James Bond theme blares out.
Five minutes’ walk to the west of Highbury & Islington station you’ll find Sunday on Hemingford Road, which – misleadingly – is actually not only open on Sundays. And, regardless of its founders’ woeful grasp of basic SEO principles, it makes the best pancakes I have ever had, anywhere. Brace yourselves; I’ve got photos.
Emily Gibson / Dates, Do, Indoors, Mates, Mums, Organised Fun, £££ / classical, concerts, culture, London, quirky dates, Royal Albert Hall, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, things to do, west London / 1 Comment
Every year the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra holds their Film Gala at the Royal Albert Hall and plays an enraptured audience a few hours of the world’s most famous movie tunes. I’ve been meaning to go for a couple of years but the tickets sell like hot cakes – this year I actually managed to buy […]
Words cannot describe how excited we were to visit L’Atelier de Joel Rubuchon. We’d put on proper shoes, strapped ourselves in to our big girl pants and made a pact not to swear for at least two hours, or at least not loudly. For a brief while, we were going to be Ladies.
What if I told you there was something going on in East London sort of like the World Cup, but not shit? There’s booze involved, certainly, but patties instead of players, buns instead of balls and, er, gherkins instead of goals? And a democratic vote at the end in which everyone chooses the winner together? And […]
“This,” I announced to the Robert, the head chef of Clockjack Oven, Soho, after two glasses of wine and a faceful of its signature rotisserie chicken, “is the wettest bird I’ve ever had.”
“Have you guys decided what you want to order yet?” asked the waiter. “Yes,” I said. “Steak please.” And laughed myself senseless. The waiter, who must have heard the joke about 50,000 times before, made a half-hearted attempt at a guffaw before asking how I’d like it cooked.