Give me just a little more space

You are meeting a friend for a drink after work. Neither of you wants the bother of a sit-down supper with surly waiters, time limits on tables and next-door's elbows in your ribs. But nor is the smokechoked scrum of the average West End boozer quite what you had in mind.

No, what you picture as you pick up the phone to arrange the rendezvous is this: somewhere central; not too crowded; well-spaced tables that you won't need to queue for; music, possibly (loud enough to register, but quiet enough so you can hear yourself think); cocktails, definitely, but a good wine list too, and beer for those inclined (and, crucially, a member of staff to take your order and bring your drinks); and something rather more appetising than a dry-roasted nut to get your teeth into.

All this in a venue that is not so busy that it resembles a peak-time railway station, yet not so empty it reminds you of a Peak District railway hotel. Easy? You're kidding. Anyone who has tried to find this mythical watering hole will be familiar with the difficulty.

In the old days, before David Collins started tarting up old hotels and Ian Schrager began opening new ones, the hotel bar was the city drinker's best-kept secret, but have you tried to get a seat in the Lobby Bar at One Aldwych recently? You can't move for pinstripes and posh totty, honking back martinis and braying for Britain.

In fact, getting a seat anywhere after dark is an achievement, unless you are happy with a pint of bitter in an Angus Steak House. Generally, unless you have joined a members-only bar, the rule is, the earlier you get there, the better your chances of somewhere to sit down. And, just as importantly, hear what each other is saying.

In most bars, the sound system will be set at "I am catching 80 per cent of what she's saying, I wonder if she's noticed?" between 6 and 8pm; thereafter, "I'm sorry, but you'll have to speak up". An almost perfect bar, such as Ling Ling at Hakkasan, which has looks, comfort, cocktails and nibbles, spoils it all with "I should never have left my ear trumpet at home" levels of music as early as 9pm.

But if you are prepared to entertain the idea of setting foot in a bar that hasn't been devised by Dick Bradsell, patronised by Donatella and colonised by Cat Deeley and co, a quiet drink and a natter is still possible. You never know, you may even end up back in a pub: you remember, big places with saveloys and fruit machines, sticky carpets and juke boxes playing country and western music. Even Madonna thinks they are fashionable now.

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AMBER

Gets lively, but early afterworkers can be confident of a seat on the ground floor where they spin softer sounds and table service ensures you can sample affordable cocktails and tapas without missing a word of your companion's scandalous story.
6 Poland Street, W1 020 7734 3094 (Mon-Fri 11am-12.45am, Sat 4pm-12.45am).

BRADLEY'S

Head for the basement, where drinks are cheap and the music will get your foot tapping, rather than your ears ringing. One section of seating is so discreet that you could conduct an affair there and nobody would ever know. Bradley's is the kind of scruffy joint that regulars like to feel is their secret. It isn't, of course. It's mine.
52 Hanway Street, W1 020 7636 0359 (Mon-Sat noon-11pm, Sun 2pm-10.30pm).

THE CHANDOS

The upstairs bar at Chandos is a calming corner of civilisation, ideal for the sort of conversation that requires a sofa to loll on for as long as is necessary, a quick turnaround at the bar, and a complete absence of hassle. And it's a pub.
29 St Martin's Lane, WC2 020 7836 1401 (Mon-Sat 11am-11pm, Sun noon-10.30am).