london story for corporate traveller

7/25/2019 London story for Corporate Traveller

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CORPORATE TRAVELLERWINTER 2016

ondon, that great cesspool

into which all the great

loungers of the empire

are irresistibly drained."

So wrote Arthur Conan

Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes

stories. One hundred years later, and

that assertion is as true now as it was

then.

I'm a lounger all right, and arriving

back in the thick of London, was like

slipping into a comfortable pair of

Chelsea boots.

People will tell you London is

crowded, and they’ve got that right.But don’t panic – it’s nothing new. As

a recent series by Time Out magazine

illustrated, it’s possible to t the entire

populations of Ireland, Luxembourg,

Belize, Estonia, Iceland and Fiji inside

London. Which seems to be more or

less what somebody has done.

Or the combined populations

of Scotland and Wales, (rather less

so). And yet, as noted recently in

the Torygraph (Daily Telegraph), it’s

only in the last two years or so, in

which London has returned to its pre

L

OVERWHELMING,INFURIATING, EXPENSIVE- but there’s nowhere on earth iike it

Second World War population levels.

London was a megacity, long

before anybody coined the term.

But to say London is crowded is like

saying the Antarctic is cold.

For the agoraphobic, then this

is a town to avoid. And whatever

spending money we have budgeted,

best double it. Granted, there is

plenty to do in London that doesn’t

cost the earth, such as strolling its

streets and parks, or visiting the

permanent exhibitions of National

Trust museums.

All the same, this is not a goodtown for the impecunious.

Anyway, from someone who has

lived in London more than once and

still goes there a lot, here are a few

recommendations for the discerning

traveller, all highlighted thus so they

can be Google searched later.

Restaurants

If there’s one way that my atavistic

Antipodean preference for wide open

spaces does express itself, it’s that

I can’t stand eating in restaurants

that are packed to the gunwales, and

People will tell

you London is

crowded, and

they’ve got that

right. But don’t

panic – it’s nothing

new.

by Scott Alexander Young

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this neighborhood.

My London acting agent has an

oce in the iconic Liberty House,

the upscale department store with

the striking Tudor exterior. But my

associations with this area run far

deeper than that.

Decades ago when I rst landed

in Soho, it was still a sort of earthly

paradise for those of a Bohemiantaint, a playground where it was

possible to end up drunk, miserable

and alone on less than 20 quid.

These days one round of drinks in

a club is often more than 20 pounds

sterling, and the Woodbines will have

to be smoked outside in the rain, but

something of the old spirit remains.

A little while back I spent a

magical afternoon and long night

in Soho where we kept running

into Peter Ackroyd, the author of

that magnicent tome London: The

Biography , as he matched our progress

from café to pub to restaurant.

We saw him on Greek Street in

The Coach & Horses, then The FrenchHouse; where free French pilots used

to drink during the Second World

War, and where a sign advises that,

"in the interests of polite conversation

and serious drinking, cell phones are

banned."

Ackroyd was there later in De

Hems Netherlands Pub and in a good

Chinese down Lisle Street. (As any

fool knows, all the good Chinatown

restaurants in Soho aren’t on Gerrard

Street, they’re on Lisle Street). Anyway,

the presence of Peter Ackroyd, a kind

of a modern day Charles Dickens or

Edward Gibbons, was like a kind of

benediction on our Soho London pub

crawl.

It ended, as it has before and will

again, at Ronnie Scotts, one of the

great jazz clubs of the world, which

recently changed its décor, from old

school cool to er, a slightly dierent

type of old school cool.

Shopping

Of course it’s not all about drinking

and eating. There’s shopping as well. A

little retail therapy in W1 usually puts

me in a good frame of mind. If we are

lurking around Piccadilly with a credit

card to burn, then as well the fashion

everywhere we looked on our rst

night in the West End was brimming

over. Then, between Covent Garden

and Leicester Square, we discovered

a delightful little Italian named

Giovanni’s.

Candlelit, with stucco walls

and fading autographed photos of

celebrities hanging everywhere, this is

the sort of place that has been in the

family for generations, and serves up

very reasonably priced classic Italian

fare.

If someone else is paying or

you just don’t care, try Rules, also in

Covent Garden. A liveried footman

waits outside this hundreds year old

restaurant. Wouldn’t recommend aFriday evening necessarily, as it will be

crowded with diners. However pricey

London’s nest may be, there are still

plenty of people happy to shell out

for classic game cookery, oysters,

puddings and pie. Ralph Fiennes as

M, is seen dining at Rules alone, in the

latest Bond asco. There are pricier

places in London, but none with a

more impressive pedigree.

Drinks

The Soho bias here is because I

spend a lot of my time in and around

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houses, and perennials like Fortnum

and Mason for luxury hampers, be

sure and visit these couple of London

originals. One - Hatchards Book Shop.

It’s in a four-storey building with a

shop front like an 18th century man

of war. It has an absolutely gob-

smacking selection of books, from

literature to non ction, photography

to art and design, all stacked oor toceiling over all oors.

If there are kids in the picture,

or even if we just like beautiful toys,

then Hamley's Toy Store, only a few

minutes away on Regent Street, lies

in wait. Founded 256 years ago as

“Noah’s Ark” by one William Hamley, it

has the distinction of being the world’s

oldest toy store, still in business that

is.

There’s every kind of toy we’ve

ever dreamed of, and more besides,

over seven storeys. Full scale Lego

gurines of the British Royal family

watch over the whole thing, with a

certain plasticised equine dignity.

SightseeingAs for sightseeing, It costs nothing,

but we may feel compelled to donate

anyway, to Saint Paul’s in Covent

Garden. This iconic church with it’s

pillared façade on Covent Garden,

outside which jugglers and magicians

perform, is also known as the Actor's

Church. Plaques around the walls

within, commemorate everyone from

Nöel Coward to Vivien Leigh, Boris

Karlo to Charlie Chaplin.

After all the sightseeing we are

likely to be exhausted, so how about

one more place for a snifter. This one

is some way across town, in London’s

nancial district, colloquially known

as the Square Mile.

My brother Craig just happens to

work in the city, for one of the “big

three.” Our rendezvous is at Ye olde

Cheshire Cheese. Enjoined by someother bods we have known a year

or two, we sit in the cellar of this

magnicently archaic pub (rebuilt

after London’s great re, in 1667); all

sloping oors, replaces and heavy

wooden tables, and condent that

no-one is listening in, unleash the full

spectrum of politically incorrect bloke

commentary on the state of the world

today.

Why this should be one of life’s

perverse pleasures, for anyone with

a great future behind them, I really

don’t know.

If we spend any deal of time in

London, chances are we will seek out

its quiet spots and green zones, andmercifully there are plenty to choose

from. I have always liked Highgate and

Greenwich, but as Craig has a place

near Greenwich, that’s where I tend

to spend more time. Anyone whose

brain is not entirely composed of

kardashian mind mush, can probably

tell you that Greenwich faces onto

the Thames, and is home to the

Royal Observatory and the imposing

buildings and sprawling grounds of

the Royal Naval College.

The National Maritime Museum

in Greenwich is part of the Royal

Naval College, and is a large and

brilliant museum. Again, if we’re with

kids, there is plenty here to keep

them occupied, with exhibits aimed

squarely at the toddler to teen age

bracket.

When I visited, an altogether moreadult showcase called Samuel Pepys:

Plague, Fire, Revolution was in full

swing. It was a about the restoration

era diarist and, well, lecher, with

whom I've long had a fascination.

“The City of London, now a Fabergé

eggshell from which the human meat

is blown anew each evening,” wrote an

accessibly lucid William Self in a piece

for the Grauniad (The Guardian) that

accompanied the Pepys exhibition.

Self has a point. There’s no

doubt London can be overwhelming,

infuriating and eye wateringly

expensive. Then again, there’s also

nowhere else on earth quite like it.

So while we are still in Greenwich,let’s stop for one last slap up meal -

at The Cutty Sark, 4-6 Ballast Quay. If

we want to avoid the worst of those

aforementioned madding crowds,

we come here for a weekday lunch.

It’s gastro pub fare in an 18th century

tavern that looks out onto Canary

Wharf and the O2 arena.

A great place to sip an ale (if that’s

your bag) or a New Zealand Sauvignon

Blanc and watch the Thames roll by.

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