Splashes of hand sanitiser and plenty of smiles: What it was like to head back to pubs and restaurants

Cheers: pubs and restaurants were full as business returned
PA

Treading into town seemed nerve wracking; people were filling up with Five Guys and Franca Manca – or they were in central – but Super Saturday seemed quiet, at least to begin with. There are still so many places closed.

But then it was 3pm and I was in a cab when a friend texted to mention she’d already seen a girl topless. Soho was in full swing. On the way, Le Pain Quotidien looked busy; I’d forgotten about them, and felt guilty.

“Let’s just get a couple of pints,” I overheard someone say, following them into The French House. Ironic, really, as the French is famed for halves, and – under usual circumstances – only serves full pints when Suggs is in on April Fools’ Day.

“Independence Day” was given the same honour. The French has never been one for beer – it’s said they sell more Champagne – but sitting at the upstairs bar, I saw pint after pint arrive. Some halves too – sticklers for tradition. But people were laughingly taking whatever they could get; while drinkers were fairly laissez faire, the French was being cautious, distancing people and checking numbers, but the feeling was one of a party. Landlord Lesley flitted between bars as regulars returned; no hugs, but plenty of elbows.

Cycling to Sloane Square spot Colbert, monied Mayfair was quieter – only George, the Italian with David Hockney on the walls, had a packed terrace. Perhaps its regulars were missing galleries.

Mayfair’s emptiness was not a huge surprise, as many of these well-funded spots can afford to wait before opening their doors, to see how everyone else does it. But even on the approach, one could hear Sloane Square: the slap of boat shoes, the tinkle of tennis bracelets.

Super Saturday - in pictures

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Restaurateurs Corbin & King are a safe pair of hands, and so French brasserie Colbert proved. Entry felt a little odd – Sloane-y swanning in is out, orderly queuing is in (waiting with a friend, in a long line of couples, I was reminded of Noah’s Ark). Once in, past face scanners taking temperatures, things felt… normal. Though tables were being judiciously sprayed and wiped down, and everyone was sat that little bit further apart, it was much the same as it might have been any Thursday night; quieter than a Saturday, certainly, but still brimming with locals, ice buckets and bottles of Champagne everywhere. Some arrived with quickly discarded face masks. Oysters, snails and octopus – not things easy to do in lockdown – all came out beautifully, as though the chef hadn’t ever been away.

Loos were strictly sign-posted, and staff asked if we would be comfortable with them pouring the water, or would prefer to do it ourselves. Every drink came from a tray, and there was no leaning in to clarify orders – every French vineyard had its name insultingly mangled last night, repeatedly and ever louder – but there was an unmistakable buzz, a feeling of relief. Many came with their family for what seemed well-fed reunions, but I’m sure I saw a few rekindled affairs, too.

Waving goodbye to owner Jeremy King, who was in chatting away to his would-have-been regulars – which yesterday included the Political Editor of ITV News, Robert Peston – it was back to Soho, by now buzzing, heaving. The queues at Old Compton Street Brasserie spilt into the road; across the way at Cafe Boheme, a waiter with a bottle of wine in each hand shrugged happily and said to come back in an hour. Staff and restaurants seemed to all be in order, even if the streets were far from socially-distanced.

Onto 40 Dean St, where owner Nima Safaei seemed to endlessly be pouring out rosé. With the Save Soho campaign a success, tables and chairs were out, and demand was high. After Safaei had made sure we all had rubbed in our hand sanitiser, it was onto Negronis. Around us, the excited chatter of gossip; clearly, there was a lot to catch up on.

Later took us across the road to fine-dining Sola; Victor Garvey’s Californian spot had been throbbing all evening. Never a place for walk-ins – few wander in for a 10-course tasting menu – Garvey said they’d been booked out since announcing they were back. With tables broadly spaced anyway, Garvey hadn’t lost covers. Things were still a bit different though; usually, he said, he didn’t welcome someone to a restaurant by spraying their hands and taking their address.

Overwhelmingly, there seemed a feeling of joy. Not from the restaurants – though goodness knows they will have been relieved – but from their customers. A naughty “one more” seemed to be the theme of surrounding tables. The evening, from start to finish, was soundtracked by laughter. I noticed how keenly restaurants seemed to be following the rules – some even stopped serving early, to manage numbers – I suppose there is no second chance. But busy Soho throbbed with the throng of thousands of Londoners just happy to see each other again. The police were smiling. Everyone was. If this is the new normal, I’m in.

July 6: This article has been amended to correct Robert Peston's job title. We apologise for the error.

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