Old Orleans

A warm 'Southern' welcome awaits you, beams the sign on the way in. I half expected to be met by men in pointy white hats telling me 'you're not from round these parts are ya hillbilly boy?'. This wasn't the case, but the sea of Ralph Lauren shirts was equally as intimidating. There's a separate restaurant upstairs, away from the pissed–up masses trying to entertain each other with sparkling renditions of Jaws on the disused pianos downstairs. Mid–week occasionally gets busy, although it never gets to suffocation point, even at weekends. The happy hour deals bring smiles to faces with brisk trade in cocktails complete with bright paper parasols and fresh fruit.

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