Running until the end of August, the Mango Tree’s Head Chef Ood and consultant chef Ian Pengelly (of Gilgamesh fame) have devised a six course Thai feast to celebrate the event that  so seduced the nation.

Don’t expect to leave discussing the cleverness of a cappuccino foam, the intensity of a wine reduction, the artfulness of the presentation. Annie’s in Barnes avoids every competitive, nonsensical expectation of gimmick-loving gastronauts. What it does is glammed-up home cooking, well-executed and fun, in a relaxed, rococo-mixed-with-rock-and-roll atmosphere. Joanna Biddolph urges you to brave the easy journey west.  

You won’t go here for a sit down special meal; in fact most of you wont go here at all seeing as you don’t know where Norbury is do you?  But if you’re ever darn sarf then look out for the loudest building in town right next to the banks of the burbling River Wandle. Lahore joy ahoy!

The biscuit-coloured exterior of The Plough and the views of a busy crossroads at the dodgy end of St Johns Hill are far from attractive but inside the décor’s trendy without being pretentious – plush pink sofas, foxglove wallpaper, yellow tasselled lampshades, a carpet of astro-turf and jaunty, coloured plants in treacle tins.

I thought I knew London well, but The Courtyard at 51 was a real surprise. Hidden away in a quiet street in Victoria just minutes from the station is a secluded alfresco eating and drinking spot that I had no idea existed. I don’t mean a tiny terrace or narrow pavement that is so typical of inner London outdoor spaces: this atmospheric area with an elegant fountain as its centrepiece is a spacious oasis.

Arguably, everyone loves a curry. But, as any discerning fellow knows, there’s curry and there’s curry. There’s the huge vats of base gravy turned into sickly-sweet kormas; dull, derivative dhansaks; or vicious, volcanic vindaloos. Then there are scratch cooked, silky, butter-based sauces; bright green, spanking fresh herbal preparations; and thick, nut-enriched pastes. And Bombay Palace are firm champions of the latter bunch.

Every summer, the guys who own a pub called The Gun turn their large outdoor, riverside terrace into a Portuguese grill, serving fish (from up the road at Billingsgate Market) as well as burgers, ribs of beef and lamb kebabs. So I went along with visions of glasses of chilled vihno verde, plates of bacalhau and nice piece of charcoal grilled fish- after all, what could be nicer?

Stepping into this shoebox-sized ‘Anglo Franco’ bistro is like travelling back in time 70 years to an era of post-war libération; it has the bohemian air of a secret, oak panelled salon, artists in residence huddled in a Gauloises haze.

The grits (like a coarse polenta) provided an unctuous creaminess which slowly dissolved to give way to tiny crunchy flecks. The fabulous accompanying prawns exploded like meaty fireworks between the teeth. Deep fried onion bits gave an additional depth of flavour and had they been a little crunchier, they would have provided yet another dimension of texture.

It’s not cheap, but then fish isn’t cheap these days, especially cod. It is however about as healthy as fast food gets and it’s certainly great quality and cooked properly. I doubt we’ll ever see a return of the high street chippy, but Poppies’ gently ironic take on the past is certainly welcome.