The most-loved bars and pubs in London

‘What makes this one so much better than the others?’ I overheard a disgruntled punter huff upon reaching the fourteenth floor of Aldgate’s Dorsett City Hotel. She might have a point: these days, London’s skies are increasingly filled with rooftop bars tacked on to any available elevated surface. But it doesn’t make the first steps into Jin Bo Law any less impressive. In this L-shaped bar, you’re greeted by a floor-to-ceiling view of the City and beyond. The Gherkin seems within nibbling distance, The Shard spikes up to your left and Tower Bridge looks like it’s made of Lego. Inside, a giant golden pineapple that adorns the wall from back bar to ceiling gives an air of playful opulence. Though there’s a lot of gilt going on, it nestles up against a largely black and yellow colour scheme, with flourishes of oriental iconography. In short, it’s fancy but not intimidatingly so. We headed to the bar for an early evening cocktail, when all tables had reserved signs in place for later on. If you’re looking to drink here post-6pm, you should make like the others and book in advance – the drinks make the pre-planning worth every bit of effort. We opted for an East/West Cobbler, a long, refreshing mix of vodka and elderflower liqueur given a lip-smacking, sour yuzu kick. It’s these subtle Asian influences that elevate things. A light, summery but terribly named Spice to Mead You (gin, quince liqueur, five-spiced honey mead and Chinese cherry apple) was saved from a potentially Christm

Since first opening in 2013, Radio Rooftop Bar high above the Strand has secured its status as one of central London’s prime rooftop drinking destinations. But it’s also drawn its fair share of negative attention from customers stuck in queues or turned away at the door, by staff described in very unflattering terms across social media. Timing is key. On a Monday evening, we were up on the terrace faster than a raincloud could appear. Service once we found a seat wasn’t quite so pacey, but that only buys you more time to absorb those extraordinary 360-degree views of every star of the London skyline. The terrace is much like a slick Ibiza sun lounge – although you probably won’t find such plush blankets and patio heaters in the Balearic Islands. There’s a soundtrack to match, with background house beats a hit with the inevitable flashy Essex boys in town for a knees-up. (It’s worth noting that same-sex groups of more than five are barred.) It can be a strange mix of people here, spanning the aforementioned lad crew, older American tourists, fashionistas in floppy hats and work colleagues on awkward outings all rubbing shoulders. Expect the usual rooftop prices, but if you’re just stopping in for a one-off drink with a view, wine (fizzy and still) is served by the glass. For summer sipping, G&T comes in fifteen forms, with different brands of gin, flavoured tonics and fruit infusions in the mix. With each costing £14, you’re paying for the altitude.

Welcome to party island. You’ll have to battle past crowds of frazzled commuters at Waterloo station and climb up a series of brightly coloured staircases to get there. But it’s worth it to reach this buzzy rooftop oasis with swoonsome views of the city’s skyline. It takes its inspiration from the tiny island of Elba, just off the Tuscan coast, where Napoleon Bonaparte was forcibly sent in 1814. He took his horse and a few hundred of his closest pals. Political exile? Apparently he just partied in the Med for 300 days. Enough of that, though. Bar Elba’s historical theme is as loose as they come. With fairy lights, communal benches and a sizeable cocktail list, this rooftop bar is more about the (bona)party than the nineteenth-century military leader. The bar boasts a small wine, beer and cider menu, as well as a selection of bubbles for those with an emperor’s budget. Cocktails are sweet and summery: the frosé, a velvety-smooth, rosé and vermouth-spiked strawberry slushie, was easily the stand-out, while the Aperol Spritz was solid and came served in big sharing jugs for the thirsty. Balmy Italian paradise, Bar Elba is not. But, as the sun sets over Waterloo, with a view of the Shard glinting in the day’s last light, it is a sweet place to be. Of course, there’s no proof that the premise is in any way historically accurate, but ‘liberté, egalité, rosé’? That’s a motto I can get behind.

You can’t get high quickly enough in Dalston; sadly there’s no express lift to the area’s prime roof space. But the few flights up to Dalston Roof Park (a bar from Bootstrap Company that reboots its look every year) set the creative scene with wicked graffiti on the walls. The £3 entry fee is worth it for the lurid AstroTurf, real-life flora in hanging baskets and makeshift planters, and bunting flapping in the breeze. Or in the storm, on our visit – there’s no guaranteeing that the Great British summer will actually make an appearance. With that in mind, the venue offers the shelter of a covered bar and a roofed area in front of the decks, so you can dance whatever the weather. Colour comes from bright beanbags (hang on, we thought we’d left those in the ’80s), allowing relaxed drinkers to carpet the floor as heavily as that AstroTurf. If that heatwave ever hits, there’s ample uncovered sunshine spots and plenty of deck chairs to lounge with a cocktail – mojitos and caipirinhas do a grand trade, but I tested out the Dalston Sunset, a cheerful blend of cranberry, lychee liqueur and gin that practically screams ‘summer’. Throughout the season, pop-up food traders will be setting up shop for monthly residencies (Le Bao are currently cooking up a storm on the roof), sunrise yoga sessions will crop up on the regs and those DJs keep coming, so get on up. If the beanbag is in for a revival, perhaps summer will be making a comeback too.

Spoiler alert: there’s an ace rooftop bar in Peckham, and it’s not Frank’s Café. The Bussey Building might be best known for its club nights, but it’s got another string to its bow in the form of a trendy rooftop bar, which has just reopened for the summer. Perched atop the multi-purpose venue on Rye Lane, Bussey Rooftop Bar acts as an ideal precursor to an impending night out. Views of the London skyline come practically unobstructed, making this little watering hole a scenic drinking location both day and night. It’s very low key: chilled-out tunes, palm trees, fairy lights and pastel-coloured decking give the space a beach bar feel – the perfect urban getaway to soak up the sun’s rays (rays aren’t guaranteed, though; this is still England). The bar itself is small and service was sluggish, but tipples are worth the wait. The cocktail list oozes summer: the Meloncholy – with gin, honey, prosecco and elderflower – was light and zingy, while the Berry Garcia was a refreshing blend of white rum, berries and mint. Cocktails run to no more than a tenner, but if you’re feeling thrifty you can get a glass of wine from £5.50. There’s also a shack hosting a range of street food pop-ups on rotation – RockaDollar was serving its hot dogs and nachos with an impressive homemade jalapeño salsa when we visited. Frank’s might have written the book on rooftop drinking, but this bar offers the next chapter, and it’s filled with style, good music and cracking cocktails.

Did Sir Christopher Wren adroitly combine the traditional gothic style of church-building with the grace and ambition of Renaissance design, or was his cathedral too decorative for a seat of English ecclesiastical power and a dangerous transgression towards the old faith? There’s no better place to consider the points of debate circling around St Paul’s than this new rooftop terrace bar in Jean Nouvel’s One New Change shopping complex. The name of the bar is meaningless – a vague attempt at Manhattan glamour. The looks are unimportant, as the whole mall is in thrall to its neighbour. Madison seems to exist largely as a viewing platform. But what a view it is. A glass lift takes gawpers from the ground floor, sweeping up parallel with St Pauls’ east elevation. Once in the bar or its generous outdoor space, an unrivalled close-up is offered of the drum, peristyle, upper balustrade, upper drum, dome and lantern of the cathedral – all the godliest bits – with the ball and cross silhouetted perfectly against the sky. You can of course drink in more than the views: cocktails range from standards (mojitos and whatnot) to concoctions with names ripe for being cackled at by hen parties (Pornstar Martini, Hot Bitch Martini). There’s a good range of spirits, and Heineken is offered by the ‘schooner’ (a two-thirds of a pint measure). There are snacks, some of which may cause puzzlement if piled on small plates in Spain, but called tapas here nonetheless: the likes of Welsh rarebit fritte

Please note, Frank’s Cafe reopens on Thursday May 30 2019. Time Out Editors. Londoners continue to make the annual pilgrimage to this Peckham multi-storey car park for a Campari at Frank’s. Open until late September, the summer pop–up plays host to hundreds who mob a bar that, after a few years of notably festival-like service, seems to have upped its game this year.  For 2015, artist Richard Wentworth has covered Frank’s tarmac floor with wiggly aluminium paint akin to a glittering snail trail. The bar’s striking red tarpaulin cover and those sunset views (showcasing a London panorama) are plastered across social media as soon as temperatures soar. The crowd remains largely the same (you’ll spy plenty of denim cut-offs), although all walks of life make the trip to tick Frank’s off their London bucket list. Even when the capital hit record temperatures we were able to gain early entry with minimal fuss. Much later than 7pm though and we’d have faced a one-in-one-out door policy. While the bar  seems speedier than before, there’s no easy way to get a meal or snacks on warm days as the small kitchen strains under the pressure. It's a shame, since the new menu of enticing kebabs, grilled fish and side dishes wouldn’t go amiss in a Shoreditch small plates restaurant.   Italian cocktails are at the height of trendy too, ideal when cooling off in the heat. Rather than knocking back a sloppily-made negroni (£6), stick with drinks that are easy to mix in a hurry – a dark and stomzy (

Canonbury remains a sliver of Georgian good taste between the madness of Upper Street and the dirtiness of Dalston. Few of us will ever get to live here. Yet George Orwell dwelt in the neighbourhood when it was more down at heel, and made the local Compton Arms famous by using it as a model for an idealised London pub (the Moon Under Water) in a famous essay of 1946. Just round the corner is the Canonbury Tavern, recently reopened by Young’s. You know what to expect of a Young’s pub. They’re often in locations where you’re pleased to find a grand pub, and usually decorated in inoffensive greys. Here they serve pub grub and, in the dining room, more ambitious dishes. If you’re used to Kernel and Weird Beard, you may find Young’s beer timid by comparison. The Canonbury also sells a couple from Camden Town brewery. And it has other draws. It’s huge, a series of elegant rectilinear rooms, and the rear garden is equally enormous. Orwell might not have considered the Canonbury his perfect pub, but it’s a solid success.

This unsurprisingly popular spot is perched atop the Terence Conran-designed Boundary Project, which also contains a boutique hotel, a restaurant (Boundary), a café (Albion) and a deli. The alfresco rooftop retreat in the heart of Shoreditch offers impressive panoramic views of London, with the City skyline at its most dramatic after dark. There’s restaurant seating for 48, with diners choosing from grills and lighter snacks from the deli downstairs. However, you can also lounge about on wicker chairs and summer seats surrounded by shrubbery, heaters, the smoky scent of cigars and a wood-burning fire. The range of bottled beers includes Meantime Wheat and Meteor pilsner from France; pitchers of house-designed cocktails and jugs of sangria; and more than a dozen wines offered by the glass, half-bottle and bottle. Boundary Rooftop bar was remodelled in 2013, with a weatherproof pergola allowing the bar and dining area to stay open in all weathers.

Peckham is hardly short on rooftop bars. It basically invented the modern model with Frank’s. But most of the neighbourhood’s sky-high watering holes lose their edge in winter when exposed to the elements. For views in any season, head to Forza Wine, a bar with the best of both worlds: an outdoor, bench-filled terrace and an indoor area with tall tables and glass doors revealing that skyline. We visited the fifth floor (above Rye Lane’s latest development, co-working space Market Peckham) on a dreary Saturday and were still captivated by The Shard and co-stars behind a grey veil. Indoors, it’s compact. Like, seriously so. One flustered American vented to staff, ‘How do I get to my table?’ after another guest shuffled his chair to enjoy the views, turning the room into a one-way system. Staff managed it with precision, chicaning between tables. The bar is a spin-off from Peckham’s much-loved Italian restaurant Forza Win (see what they did there?), and the drinks and snacks fly il Tricolore. A Garibaldi (Campari, orange, sugar syrup) suited lunchtime imbibing, while my friend delighted in a tangy Amaretto Sour (both £8), before we both moved onto a cracking glass of Verdicchio. True to its name, this bar takes the grape stuff seriously. And snacks are substantial enough to build a meal from – including meatballs made extra succulent by a red wine jus. Forza Wine has just scrapped its online booking system, so anticipate queues similar to those at Frank’s as soon as spring comes

‘What makes this one so much better than the others?’ I overheard a disgruntled punter huff upon reaching the fourteenth floor of Aldgate’s Dorsett City Hotel. She might have a point: these days, London’s skies are increasingly filled with rooftop bars tacked on to any available elevated surface. But it doesn’t make the first steps into Jin Bo Law any less impressive. In this L-shaped bar, you’re greeted by a floor-to-ceiling view of the City and beyond. The Gherkin seems within nibbling distance, The Shard spikes up to your left and Tower Bridge looks like it’s made of Lego. Inside, a giant golden pineapple that adorns the wall from back bar to ceiling gives an air of playful opulence. Though there’s a lot of gilt going on, it nestles up against a largely black and yellow colour scheme, with flourishes of oriental iconography. In short, it’s fancy but not intimidatingly so. We headed to the bar for an early evening cocktail, when all tables had reserved signs in place for later on. If you’re looking to drink here post-6pm, you should make like the others and book in advance – the drinks make the pre-planning worth every bit of effort. We opted for an East/West Cobbler, a long, refreshing mix of vodka and elderflower liqueur given a lip-smacking, sour yuzu kick. It’s these subtle Asian influences that elevate things. A light, summery but terribly named Spice to Mead You (gin, quince liqueur, five-spiced honey mead and Chinese cherry apple) was saved from a potentially Christm

Since first opening in 2013, Radio Rooftop Bar high above the Strand has secured its status as one of central London’s prime rooftop drinking destinations. But it’s also drawn its fair share of negative attention from customers stuck in queues or turned away at the door, by staff described in very unflattering terms across social media. Timing is key. On a Monday evening, we were up on the terrace faster than a raincloud could appear. Service once we found a seat wasn’t quite so pacey, but that only buys you more time to absorb those extraordinary 360-degree views of every star of the London skyline. The terrace is much like a slick Ibiza sun lounge – although you probably won’t find such plush blankets and patio heaters in the Balearic Islands. There’s a soundtrack to match, with background house beats a hit with the inevitable flashy Essex boys in town for a knees-up. (It’s worth noting that same-sex groups of more than five are barred.) It can be a strange mix of people here, spanning the aforementioned lad crew, older American tourists, fashionistas in floppy hats and work colleagues on awkward outings all rubbing shoulders. Expect the usual rooftop prices, but if you’re just stopping in for a one-off drink with a view, wine (fizzy and still) is served by the glass. For summer sipping, G&T comes in fifteen forms, with different brands of gin, flavoured tonics and fruit infusions in the mix. With each costing £14, you’re paying for the altitude.

Welcome to party island. You’ll have to battle past crowds of frazzled commuters at Waterloo station and climb up a series of brightly coloured staircases to get there. But it’s worth it to reach this buzzy rooftop oasis with swoonsome views of the city’s skyline. It takes its inspiration from the tiny island of Elba, just off the Tuscan coast, where Napoleon Bonaparte was forcibly sent in 1814. He took his horse and a few hundred of his closest pals. Political exile? Apparently he just partied in the Med for 300 days. Enough of that, though. Bar Elba’s historical theme is as loose as they come. With fairy lights, communal benches and a sizeable cocktail list, this rooftop bar is more about the (bona)party than the nineteenth-century military leader. The bar boasts a small wine, beer and cider menu, as well as a selection of bubbles for those with an emperor’s budget. Cocktails are sweet and summery: the frosé, a velvety-smooth, rosé and vermouth-spiked strawberry slushie, was easily the stand-out, while the Aperol Spritz was solid and came served in big sharing jugs for the thirsty. Balmy Italian paradise, Bar Elba is not. But, as the sun sets over Waterloo, with a view of the Shard glinting in the day’s last light, it is a sweet place to be. Of course, there’s no proof that the premise is in any way historically accurate, but ‘liberté, egalité, rosé’? That’s a motto I can get behind.

You can’t get high quickly enough in Dalston; sadly there’s no express lift to the area’s prime roof space. But the few flights up to Dalston Roof Park (a bar from Bootstrap Company that reboots its look every year) set the creative scene with wicked graffiti on the walls. The £3 entry fee is worth it for the lurid AstroTurf, real-life flora in hanging baskets and makeshift planters, and bunting flapping in the breeze. Or in the storm, on our visit – there’s no guaranteeing that the Great British summer will actually make an appearance. With that in mind, the venue offers the shelter of a covered bar and a roofed area in front of the decks, so you can dance whatever the weather. Colour comes from bright beanbags (hang on, we thought we’d left those in the ’80s), allowing relaxed drinkers to carpet the floor as heavily as that AstroTurf. If that heatwave ever hits, there’s ample uncovered sunshine spots and plenty of deck chairs to lounge with a cocktail – mojitos and caipirinhas do a grand trade, but I tested out the Dalston Sunset, a cheerful blend of cranberry, lychee liqueur and gin that practically screams ‘summer’. Throughout the season, pop-up food traders will be setting up shop for monthly residencies (Le Bao are currently cooking up a storm on the roof), sunrise yoga sessions will crop up on the regs and those DJs keep coming, so get on up. If the beanbag is in for a revival, perhaps summer will be making a comeback too.

Spoiler alert: there’s an ace rooftop bar in Peckham, and it’s not Frank’s Café. The Bussey Building might be best known for its club nights, but it’s got another string to its bow in the form of a trendy rooftop bar, which has just reopened for the summer. Perched atop the multi-purpose venue on Rye Lane, Bussey Rooftop Bar acts as an ideal precursor to an impending night out. Views of the London skyline come practically unobstructed, making this little watering hole a scenic drinking location both day and night. It’s very low key: chilled-out tunes, palm trees, fairy lights and pastel-coloured decking give the space a beach bar feel – the perfect urban getaway to soak up the sun’s rays (rays aren’t guaranteed, though; this is still England). The bar itself is small and service was sluggish, but tipples are worth the wait. The cocktail list oozes summer: the Meloncholy – with gin, honey, prosecco and elderflower – was light and zingy, while the Berry Garcia was a refreshing blend of white rum, berries and mint. Cocktails run to no more than a tenner, but if you’re feeling thrifty you can get a glass of wine from £5.50. There’s also a shack hosting a range of street food pop-ups on rotation – RockaDollar was serving its hot dogs and nachos with an impressive homemade jalapeño salsa when we visited. Frank’s might have written the book on rooftop drinking, but this bar offers the next chapter, and it’s filled with style, good music and cracking cocktails.

Did Sir Christopher Wren adroitly combine the traditional gothic style of church-building with the grace and ambition of Renaissance design, or was his cathedral too decorative for a seat of English ecclesiastical power and a dangerous transgression towards the old faith? There’s no better place to consider the points of debate circling around St Paul’s than this new rooftop terrace bar in Jean Nouvel’s One New Change shopping complex. The name of the bar is meaningless – a vague attempt at Manhattan glamour. The looks are unimportant, as the whole mall is in thrall to its neighbour. Madison seems to exist largely as a viewing platform. But what a view it is. A glass lift takes gawpers from the ground floor, sweeping up parallel with St Pauls’ east elevation. Once in the bar or its generous outdoor space, an unrivalled close-up is offered of the drum, peristyle, upper balustrade, upper drum, dome and lantern of the cathedral – all the godliest bits – with the ball and cross silhouetted perfectly against the sky. You can of course drink in more than the views: cocktails range from standards (mojitos and whatnot) to concoctions with names ripe for being cackled at by hen parties (Pornstar Martini, Hot Bitch Martini). There’s a good range of spirits, and Heineken is offered by the ‘schooner’ (a two-thirds of a pint measure). There are snacks, some of which may cause puzzlement if piled on small plates in Spain, but called tapas here nonetheless: the likes of Welsh rarebit fritte

Please note, Frank’s Cafe reopens on Thursday May 30 2019. Time Out Editors. Londoners continue to make the annual pilgrimage to this Peckham multi-storey car park for a Campari at Frank’s. Open until late September, the summer pop–up plays host to hundreds who mob a bar that, after a few years of notably festival-like service, seems to have upped its game this year.  For 2015, artist Richard Wentworth has covered Frank’s tarmac floor with wiggly aluminium paint akin to a glittering snail trail. The bar’s striking red tarpaulin cover and those sunset views (showcasing a London panorama) are plastered across social media as soon as temperatures soar. The crowd remains largely the same (you’ll spy plenty of denim cut-offs), although all walks of life make the trip to tick Frank’s off their London bucket list. Even when the capital hit record temperatures we were able to gain early entry with minimal fuss. Much later than 7pm though and we’d have faced a one-in-one-out door policy. While the bar  seems speedier than before, there’s no easy way to get a meal or snacks on warm days as the small kitchen strains under the pressure. It's a shame, since the new menu of enticing kebabs, grilled fish and side dishes wouldn’t go amiss in a Shoreditch small plates restaurant.   Italian cocktails are at the height of trendy too, ideal when cooling off in the heat. Rather than knocking back a sloppily-made negroni (£6), stick with drinks that are easy to mix in a hurry – a dark and stomzy (

Canonbury remains a sliver of Georgian good taste between the madness of Upper Street and the dirtiness of Dalston. Few of us will ever get to live here. Yet George Orwell dwelt in the neighbourhood when it was more down at heel, and made the local Compton Arms famous by using it as a model for an idealised London pub (the Moon Under Water) in a famous essay of 1946. Just round the corner is the Canonbury Tavern, recently reopened by Young’s. You know what to expect of a Young’s pub. They’re often in locations where you’re pleased to find a grand pub, and usually decorated in inoffensive greys. Here they serve pub grub and, in the dining room, more ambitious dishes. If you’re used to Kernel and Weird Beard, you may find Young’s beer timid by comparison. The Canonbury also sells a couple from Camden Town brewery. And it has other draws. It’s huge, a series of elegant rectilinear rooms, and the rear garden is equally enormous. Orwell might not have considered the Canonbury his perfect pub, but it’s a solid success.

This unsurprisingly popular spot is perched atop the Terence Conran-designed Boundary Project, which also contains a boutique hotel, a restaurant (Boundary), a café (Albion) and a deli. The alfresco rooftop retreat in the heart of Shoreditch offers impressive panoramic views of London, with the City skyline at its most dramatic after dark. There’s restaurant seating for 48, with diners choosing from grills and lighter snacks from the deli downstairs. However, you can also lounge about on wicker chairs and summer seats surrounded by shrubbery, heaters, the smoky scent of cigars and a wood-burning fire. The range of bottled beers includes Meantime Wheat and Meteor pilsner from France; pitchers of house-designed cocktails and jugs of sangria; and more than a dozen wines offered by the glass, half-bottle and bottle. Boundary Rooftop bar was remodelled in 2013, with a weatherproof pergola allowing the bar and dining area to stay open in all weathers.

Peckham is hardly short on rooftop bars. It basically invented the modern model with Frank’s. But most of the neighbourhood’s sky-high watering holes lose their edge in winter when exposed to the elements. For views in any season, head to Forza Wine, a bar with the best of both worlds: an outdoor, bench-filled terrace and an indoor area with tall tables and glass doors revealing that skyline. We visited the fifth floor (above Rye Lane’s latest development, co-working space Market Peckham) on a dreary Saturday and were still captivated by The Shard and co-stars behind a grey veil. Indoors, it’s compact. Like, seriously so. One flustered American vented to staff, ‘How do I get to my table?’ after another guest shuffled his chair to enjoy the views, turning the room into a one-way system. Staff managed it with precision, chicaning between tables. The bar is a spin-off from Peckham’s much-loved Italian restaurant Forza Win (see what they did there?), and the drinks and snacks fly il Tricolore. A Garibaldi (Campari, orange, sugar syrup) suited lunchtime imbibing, while my friend delighted in a tangy Amaretto Sour (both £8), before we both moved onto a cracking glass of Verdicchio. True to its name, this bar takes the grape stuff seriously. And snacks are substantial enough to build a meal from – including meatballs made extra succulent by a red wine jus. Forza Wine has just scrapped its online booking system, so anticipate queues similar to those at Frank’s as soon as spring comes

‘What makes this one so much better than the others?’ I overheard a disgruntled punter huff upon reaching the fourteenth floor of Aldgate’s Dorsett City Hotel. She might have a point: these days, London’s skies are increasingly filled with rooftop bars tacked on to any available elevated surface. But it doesn’t make the first steps into Jin Bo Law any less impressive. In this L-shaped bar, you’re greeted by a floor-to-ceiling view of the City and beyond. The Gherkin seems within nibbling distance, The Shard spikes up to your left and Tower Bridge looks like it’s made of Lego. Inside, a giant golden pineapple that adorns the wall from back bar to ceiling gives an air of playful opulence. Though there’s a lot of gilt going on, it nestles up against a largely black and yellow colour scheme, with flourishes of oriental iconography. In short, it’s fancy but not intimidatingly so. We headed to the bar for an early evening cocktail, when all tables had reserved signs in place for later on. If you’re looking to drink here post-6pm, you should make like the others and book in advance – the drinks make the pre-planning worth every bit of effort. We opted for an East/West Cobbler, a long, refreshing mix of vodka and elderflower liqueur given a lip-smacking, sour yuzu kick. It’s these subtle Asian influences that elevate things. A light, summery but terribly named Spice to Mead You (gin, quince liqueur, five-spiced honey mead and Chinese cherry apple) was saved from a potentially Christm

Since first opening in 2013, Radio Rooftop Bar high above the Strand has secured its status as one of central London’s prime rooftop drinking destinations. But it’s also drawn its fair share of negative attention from customers stuck in queues or turned away at the door, by staff described in very unflattering terms across social media. Timing is key. On a Monday evening, we were up on the terrace faster than a raincloud could appear. Service once we found a seat wasn’t quite so pacey, but that only buys you more time to absorb those extraordinary 360-degree views of every star of the London skyline. The terrace is much like a slick Ibiza sun lounge – although you probably won’t find such plush blankets and patio heaters in the Balearic Islands. There’s a soundtrack to match, with background house beats a hit with the inevitable flashy Essex boys in town for a knees-up. (It’s worth noting that same-sex groups of more than five are barred.) It can be a strange mix of people here, spanning the aforementioned lad crew, older American tourists, fashionistas in floppy hats and work colleagues on awkward outings all rubbing shoulders. Expect the usual rooftop prices, but if you’re just stopping in for a one-off drink with a view, wine (fizzy and still) is served by the glass. For summer sipping, G&T comes in fifteen forms, with different brands of gin, flavoured tonics and fruit infusions in the mix. With each costing £14, you’re paying for the altitude.

Welcome to party island. You’ll have to battle past crowds of frazzled commuters at Waterloo station and climb up a series of brightly coloured staircases to get there. But it’s worth it to reach this buzzy rooftop oasis with swoonsome views of the city’s skyline. It takes its inspiration from the tiny island of Elba, just off the Tuscan coast, where Napoleon Bonaparte was forcibly sent in 1814. He took his horse and a few hundred of his closest pals. Political exile? Apparently he just partied in the Med for 300 days. Enough of that, though. Bar Elba’s historical theme is as loose as they come. With fairy lights, communal benches and a sizeable cocktail list, this rooftop bar is more about the (bona)party than the nineteenth-century military leader. The bar boasts a small wine, beer and cider menu, as well as a selection of bubbles for those with an emperor’s budget. Cocktails are sweet and summery: the frosé, a velvety-smooth, rosé and vermouth-spiked strawberry slushie, was easily the stand-out, while the Aperol Spritz was solid and came served in big sharing jugs for the thirsty. Balmy Italian paradise, Bar Elba is not. But, as the sun sets over Waterloo, with a view of the Shard glinting in the day’s last light, it is a sweet place to be. Of course, there’s no proof that the premise is in any way historically accurate, but ‘liberté, egalité, rosé’? That’s a motto I can get behind.

You can’t get high quickly enough in Dalston; sadly there’s no express lift to the area’s prime roof space. But the few flights up to Dalston Roof Park (a bar from Bootstrap Company that reboots its look every year) set the creative scene with wicked graffiti on the walls. The £3 entry fee is worth it for the lurid AstroTurf, real-life flora in hanging baskets and makeshift planters, and bunting flapping in the breeze. Or in the storm, on our visit – there’s no guaranteeing that the Great British summer will actually make an appearance. With that in mind, the venue offers the shelter of a covered bar and a roofed area in front of the decks, so you can dance whatever the weather. Colour comes from bright beanbags (hang on, we thought we’d left those in the ’80s), allowing relaxed drinkers to carpet the floor as heavily as that AstroTurf. If that heatwave ever hits, there’s ample uncovered sunshine spots and plenty of deck chairs to lounge with a cocktail – mojitos and caipirinhas do a grand trade, but I tested out the Dalston Sunset, a cheerful blend of cranberry, lychee liqueur and gin that practically screams ‘summer’. Throughout the season, pop-up food traders will be setting up shop for monthly residencies (Le Bao are currently cooking up a storm on the roof), sunrise yoga sessions will crop up on the regs and those DJs keep coming, so get on up. If the beanbag is in for a revival, perhaps summer will be making a comeback too.

Spoiler alert: there’s an ace rooftop bar in Peckham, and it’s not Frank’s Café. The Bussey Building might be best known for its club nights, but it’s got another string to its bow in the form of a trendy rooftop bar, which has just reopened for the summer. Perched atop the multi-purpose venue on Rye Lane, Bussey Rooftop Bar acts as an ideal precursor to an impending night out. Views of the London skyline come practically unobstructed, making this little watering hole a scenic drinking location both day and night. It’s very low key: chilled-out tunes, palm trees, fairy lights and pastel-coloured decking give the space a beach bar feel – the perfect urban getaway to soak up the sun’s rays (rays aren’t guaranteed, though; this is still England). The bar itself is small and service was sluggish, but tipples are worth the wait. The cocktail list oozes summer: the Meloncholy – with gin, honey, prosecco and elderflower – was light and zingy, while the Berry Garcia was a refreshing blend of white rum, berries and mint. Cocktails run to no more than a tenner, but if you’re feeling thrifty you can get a glass of wine from £5.50. There’s also a shack hosting a range of street food pop-ups on rotation – RockaDollar was serving its hot dogs and nachos with an impressive homemade jalapeño salsa when we visited. Frank’s might have written the book on rooftop drinking, but this bar offers the next chapter, and it’s filled with style, good music and cracking cocktails.

Did Sir Christopher Wren adroitly combine the traditional gothic style of church-building with the grace and ambition of Renaissance design, or was his cathedral too decorative for a seat of English ecclesiastical power and a dangerous transgression towards the old faith? There’s no better place to consider the points of debate circling around St Paul’s than this new rooftop terrace bar in Jean Nouvel’s One New Change shopping complex. The name of the bar is meaningless – a vague attempt at Manhattan glamour. The looks are unimportant, as the whole mall is in thrall to its neighbour. Madison seems to exist largely as a viewing platform. But what a view it is. A glass lift takes gawpers from the ground floor, sweeping up parallel with St Pauls’ east elevation. Once in the bar or its generous outdoor space, an unrivalled close-up is offered of the drum, peristyle, upper balustrade, upper drum, dome and lantern of the cathedral – all the godliest bits – with the ball and cross silhouetted perfectly against the sky. You can of course drink in more than the views: cocktails range from standards (mojitos and whatnot) to concoctions with names ripe for being cackled at by hen parties (Pornstar Martini, Hot Bitch Martini). There’s a good range of spirits, and Heineken is offered by the ‘schooner’ (a two-thirds of a pint measure). There are snacks, some of which may cause puzzlement if piled on small plates in Spain, but called tapas here nonetheless: the likes of Welsh rarebit fritte

Please note, Frank’s Cafe reopens on Thursday May 30 2019. Time Out Editors. Londoners continue to make the annual pilgrimage to this Peckham multi-storey car park for a Campari at Frank’s. Open until late September, the summer pop–up plays host to hundreds who mob a bar that, after a few years of notably festival-like service, seems to have upped its game this year.  For 2015, artist Richard Wentworth has covered Frank’s tarmac floor with wiggly aluminium paint akin to a glittering snail trail. The bar’s striking red tarpaulin cover and those sunset views (showcasing a London panorama) are plastered across social media as soon as temperatures soar. The crowd remains largely the same (you’ll spy plenty of denim cut-offs), although all walks of life make the trip to tick Frank’s off their London bucket list. Even when the capital hit record temperatures we were able to gain early entry with minimal fuss. Much later than 7pm though and we’d have faced a one-in-one-out door policy. While the bar  seems speedier than before, there’s no easy way to get a meal or snacks on warm days as the small kitchen strains under the pressure. It's a shame, since the new menu of enticing kebabs, grilled fish and side dishes wouldn’t go amiss in a Shoreditch small plates restaurant.   Italian cocktails are at the height of trendy too, ideal when cooling off in the heat. Rather than knocking back a sloppily-made negroni (£6), stick with drinks that are easy to mix in a hurry – a dark and stomzy (

Canonbury remains a sliver of Georgian good taste between the madness of Upper Street and the dirtiness of Dalston. Few of us will ever get to live here. Yet George Orwell dwelt in the neighbourhood when it was more down at heel, and made the local Compton Arms famous by using it as a model for an idealised London pub (the Moon Under Water) in a famous essay of 1946. Just round the corner is the Canonbury Tavern, recently reopened by Young’s. You know what to expect of a Young’s pub. They’re often in locations where you’re pleased to find a grand pub, and usually decorated in inoffensive greys. Here they serve pub grub and, in the dining room, more ambitious dishes. If you’re used to Kernel and Weird Beard, you may find Young’s beer timid by comparison. The Canonbury also sells a couple from Camden Town brewery. And it has other draws. It’s huge, a series of elegant rectilinear rooms, and the rear garden is equally enormous. Orwell might not have considered the Canonbury his perfect pub, but it’s a solid success.

This unsurprisingly popular spot is perched atop the Terence Conran-designed Boundary Project, which also contains a boutique hotel, a restaurant (Boundary), a café (Albion) and a deli. The alfresco rooftop retreat in the heart of Shoreditch offers impressive panoramic views of London, with the City skyline at its most dramatic after dark. There’s restaurant seating for 48, with diners choosing from grills and lighter snacks from the deli downstairs. However, you can also lounge about on wicker chairs and summer seats surrounded by shrubbery, heaters, the smoky scent of cigars and a wood-burning fire. The range of bottled beers includes Meantime Wheat and Meteor pilsner from France; pitchers of house-designed cocktails and jugs of sangria; and more than a dozen wines offered by the glass, half-bottle and bottle. Boundary Rooftop bar was remodelled in 2013, with a weatherproof pergola allowing the bar and dining area to stay open in all weathers.

Peckham is hardly short on rooftop bars. It basically invented the modern model with Frank’s. But most of the neighbourhood’s sky-high watering holes lose their edge in winter when exposed to the elements. For views in any season, head to Forza Wine, a bar with the best of both worlds: an outdoor, bench-filled terrace and an indoor area with tall tables and glass doors revealing that skyline. We visited the fifth floor (above Rye Lane’s latest development, co-working space Market Peckham) on a dreary Saturday and were still captivated by The Shard and co-stars behind a grey veil. Indoors, it’s compact. Like, seriously so. One flustered American vented to staff, ‘How do I get to my table?’ after another guest shuffled his chair to enjoy the views, turning the room into a one-way system. Staff managed it with precision, chicaning between tables. The bar is a spin-off from Peckham’s much-loved Italian restaurant Forza Win (see what they did there?), and the drinks and snacks fly il Tricolore. A Garibaldi (Campari, orange, sugar syrup) suited lunchtime imbibing, while my friend delighted in a tangy Amaretto Sour (both £8), before we both moved onto a cracking glass of Verdicchio. True to its name, this bar takes the grape stuff seriously. And snacks are substantial enough to build a meal from – including meatballs made extra succulent by a red wine jus. Forza Wine has just scrapped its online booking system, so anticipate queues similar to those at Frank’s as soon as spring comes