Frank’s Cafe and Campari Bar

I spent Friday night on the tenth floor of a multistorey carpark in Peckham. No, my car hadn’t broken down; I was enjoying the delights of Frank’s pop-up bar which, until September, is serving drinks and food in the most unexpected surroundings.

We drank wine not Campari, sat on planks on the floor and fought off the gusts of wind with sensible clothing (or rather Stevie and Bartley did; I had come unprepared and had to borrow a jacket). For once I felt like I was living in that hip-trendy world that magazines suggest exists in London but which I never experience. Then I went to the loo and that illusion of swankiness disappeared. All I can say is concentrate on the wonderful, wonderful view, cross your legs, and use the facilities somewhere else…

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