To be perfectly honest, we had planned on having a quick cocktail at the bar, a meal at the restaurant Dear Jackie, before going out to hit Soho properly, but found that the Broadwick is simply impossible to leave. It’s like a funky glass wormhole where time last forever inside and speeds by outside. Anyway, that’s our excuse. We had pre-dinner cocktails at the rooftop bar, Flux, which is set to be a must for dedicated Soho cocktail fiends. With its animal print and onyx and mirrored walls and ceiling, is like stepping onto the set of The Stud, only the atmosphere is more about hushed intimacy than garish display. Keeping its cool amidst the ostentation is a trick the Broadwick revels in. The Old Fashioned I am always compelled to choose, as a white British male set solidly in the patriarchal edifice, was outrageously good. My partner’s Cosmo equally good. I think. She didn’t let me try it.