An ode to The Roxy
Posh bars are all well and good. But if spending £7.00 on a gin and tonic for weekday drinks makes your wallet sob then I would recommend the Roxy. The Roxy puts the bling in dingy, the hope into Happy Hour, the soul into student bar, the tenuous rhymes into my blogging time.
I love it. I can’t help it. At the heart of me is a bit of a dingy bar lover wrapped in the casing of a snob, and the Roxy appeases both of those things.
It’s central enough, well presented enough, but is also cheap enough. It’s less full of flashy types than say, a bar in Bank would be and less full of hipsters in Hawaiian shirts than Shoreditch would be.
I must admit it turns into a bit of a student-y magnet after 10 or so, with 18 year olds in crop tops looking sullen while dancing to Bitch better have my money and teenage boys in hats smarming drinks at the bar. I’d forgotten what it was like to see people snogging in the middle of a packed dance floor.
But, you know, every so often, dancing around with your tongue the colour of a bright cocktail jug is pretty fun, especially if age has lent you the benefit of no longer caring if you look cool or attractive.
For a post-work drink or two though, the student crowd won’t be there. Go any other day apart from Thursday or Friday and the place is dead until about 7pm. Go on Thursday or Friday and they’ll most probably offer you free bar snacks, AND replenish them. We’re not talking gourmet here, but you show me another bar that’s as happy to give you your own personal free olives and nuts delivered to your table.
Whenever I go, my chums and I always go for the bottles of Prosecco, which in Happy Hour only cost £11.50. Between three you’re looking at two glasses each for less than £4.00. You can’t even get a couple of Cokes for that kind of money in other bars.
Sue me. I’m a Roxy convert.
The Roxy, 3 Rathbone Place, nearest tube – Tottenham Court Road. Happy Hour, 5 – 8.30pm, Monday to Friday; Saturday – 6.30 – 10.30pm.
- Image attribution: The Roxy’s Facebook page
I'm Florence and I like to write.
When I'm not writing about pensions and mortgages in my day job, I write about my life in London, in which I cannot afford a mortgage even if I sold off a kidney, and I've still got another 40 years at least before I can access my pension.
I'd say I'm an ordinary girl looking for an extraordinary life, but clichéd phrases really annoy me.
Read my blog to find out more about my pet hates; and more on the places and things I love. And if you want to, please feel free to contact me with article ideas or feedback.