Lucy, companion in Kentish Town

About Lucy

Dark brown curls, properly curly rather than fashionably waved, and she has long since given up fighting them. Lucy is slender, 163 cm and brown eyed, with a face that always looks a second away from saying something funny, even when it is not. She dresses simply and well, favouring one strong colour an evening, and she owns exactly one impractical pair of shoes which she keeps for occasions that deserve them. At twenty four she already knows exactly what she enjoys and what she does not, which makes arranging an evening with her quick work.

She is open, funny and quietly stubborn. She has English by itself, talks fast, and slows right down when she is interested, so you can tell exactly where you stand. She cooks, seriously rather than decoratively, and she will interrogate a menu for its provenance before ordering the thing she was always going to order. She is also the kind of person who knows what time the light hits a particular corner of a park, and who will plan a walk around it.

For Kentish Town she likes the top end, where Highgate Road runs up towards the heath, and the Bull and Last is her natural meeting point: a corner pub that takes its kitchen seriously and its own importance lightly. She comes up from Pimlico, Victoria line as far as Euston and then two stops on the Northern, half an hour on a good night. The heath gates are five minutes further on, which means an evening here can start with a walk instead of a drink if the weather is being generous.

Whether an evening opens with a drink or a walk depends entirely on the sky, and she is content to decide that late. Send the desk a day; the top of Highgate Road, the pubs along it and the heath gates just beyond are described on the Kentish Town page.

Asking for her

Lucy would rather book a table herself than be handed a reservation, because she knows which rooms are quiet at nine. Two hours at £500 is enough for dinner; add the heath and take three.

Every figure she works to is already public on the board, and the order of the evening is set out on the booking page.

An evening with Lucy

Seven on a Saturday and the pub at the top of the road is three deep at the bar, which she has anticipated, so there is a table upstairs with her name against it. Lucy reads a menu like a document. She will ask one question about the fish and then order the pie, and she is completely unembarrassed about this.

The conversation runs long and the plates stay on the table. Afterwards, if it is dry and not yet eleven, she walks you up to the gates and along the edge of the fields where the ground rises and the city reappears in the gap between two trees. It is ten minutes out and ten back, and she thinks it is the best part of any evening in NW5.