The Golden Eagle, Bond Street

This truly was a godforsaken place: the furniture looked like it had been bought from Steptoe & Son, the barman was as about as welcoming as a Death-Eater and the monged-out clientele looked like they hadn�t shifted since Thatcherism. In fact, a good barometer of how good a first impression this place made was the constant sound of the front door opening and shutting as people looked in and then ran as fast as they could. If only I had the foresight to do the same�

21 Feb 2007 13:59