High life on the seventh floor

One of the world's unsolved mysteries is how on earth the Ancient Egyptians built the Pyramids without the aid of cranes, or spirit levels, or cement trucks (or Polish builders come to that). But they are there - one of the Seven Wonders. The art of cultivating a roof garden in the middle of a city has always seemed to me to be an equally difficult conundrum.

Over the last five years, Guy and I have tried to create our own little rooftop paradise. When we moved into our flat, we decided that we needed more than just a room with a view. Outside, there was nothing but a bare terrace made out of decking (which somebody once set on fire with a cigarette - leaving one plucky former newspaper editor-turned-TV star to douse the flames. No prizes for guessing who that was).

We set about transforming the place with plants, choosing lairy-looking flowers, fragrant shrubs and even a couple of olive trees. Now it's more Italian than Islington. Bees buzz around happily, and you wouldn't dream you were in the middle of the city.

I'm sure London is full of these private oases, but because they are private they remain a mystery. The ones we do know about are attached to the remarkably few rooftop outdoor restaurants --although a good result of Nanny Blair's smoking ban might be a few more being created (a derelict pub near us has just reopened with a brilliant outdoor terrace).

One of the hidden gems in London is the stunning rooftop garden situated slapbang in the middle of Kensington High Street. The old Derry and Toms building has a jewel at its crown - a rooftop restaurant set in 1.5 whopping acres. A lofty idyll laid out by the same landscape architect who designed the sky garden at the Rockefeller Center in New York. Now, that's what we need in London - sky gardens.

Anyway, here in Kensington you can wander round three different gardens and feast your eyes on fountains, a stream and any number of trees: palm, walnut and mulberry. Oh, and pink flamingos. If Walt Disney was in town, this is where he'd eat.

Gravity-defying it most certainly is. Rather like the faces of most of the people here when I met my companion for lunch. They say that when Americans die, they go to Paris, so I'm assuming that the living ones must come to London since they were all having lunch in Kensington on the day I was there. Many of the customers seemed to be secondrank Americans who had gone under the knife of equally undistinguished surgeons. If you're going to do this, at least get someone who knows how to wield the knife. It's probably appropriate that Babylon attracts such a crowd, as this is a restaurant that has undergone so many face-lifts itself. Babylon is the latest incarnation of this changeling, proving again that a destination location doesn't guarantee success.

Or indeed good food or good service, two simple things a restaurant needs, of course. The day we went, the place was pretty busy, which for a Monday was a good sign. But what a letdown. Incredibly disorganised service (four different staff must have dealt with us, none of whom seemed to speak to each other), mostly with an attitude that I found too loud and abrasive. Why should having a bottle of still water and a bottle of fizzy water cause such confusion? The fact that we had a glass of wine, not a bottle, also caused a minor commotion.

We had one course only: this was lunchtime after all, but we had lots to talk about and so were looking forward to lingering over crab and lobster with some delicious new potatoes. Sadly, this was not to be. Both crustaceans were peculiarly chewy and the new potatoes had been battered in salt. Having to deal with plates that didn't fit on the table they were so huge, and chunky cutlery that was too big for my hands, meant that the linger became a dash to get out of the place.

The word Babylon has two meanings: a place of immorality or a place of captivity. Given the clientele and the food - this is a definition from hell. The real problem with face-lifts is that they're addictive, and it's time for another one here. changeling, proving again that a destination location doesn't guarantee success.

Babylon
Kensington High Street, London, W8 5ED