I used to stalk right past the quiet exterior of the Florist Arms in favour of a lardfest at joyful pie-hole, The Camel. But after catching a whiff of a spruced up look, prosecco and great music, I now opt for the Florist’s irresistible combination of fresh Italian pizzas and bottled Vedett. Anywhere offering a good meal for six or so quid is a big fat winner in my book – seek out the arrosto and four-cheese pizzas in particular. I find these work well when you eat both at the same time. All to yourself. And while you’re busy with that, it’s highly probable that some befringed hipster will be farming out top-quality two-tone and ska classics to aid digestion. Ladies, do watch out for the octogenarian regular with the investigative hands. He’s incorrigible. / Lara Kavanagh

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