As I write this, I’m sat on a quiet, lavender-lined balcony overlooking the Thames. It’s a bearable 24 degrees with plenty of sunshine peeking through the occasional cloud.
To my left, the gilded clocktower of Big Ben intermittently glistens as the clouds break. Straight ahead, the white steel cables of the millennium bridge cut through the skyline of the opposite bank’s architecture; centuries of history in a single view.
The atmosphere completes itself with the faint hum of tourists busying themselves down by the riverbank. Dodging charity pitch slappers, no doubt. There’s also the sound of gushing of water – which you can also smell – from the fountain a few floors below.
And yet up here, it’s empty and blissful. There must be no more than half a dozen of us, spread out along the balcony.
I’m in the Seventy5th Balcony Bar of the Royal Festival Hall. Quite possibly one of London’s most underrated viewpoints.
My old office used to be a few hundred yards upriver. My even older office; a few hundred yards in the other direction. I’ve been coming here for more than a decade. And it’s always puzzled me why more people don’t come here to enjoy the views.
The Royal Festival Hall is open to the public most days, closing only when there are private events taking place. As far as I know, it’s open all year round, and I wouldn’t discourage you from coming in winter, either. The leafless trees give you an unimpeded view of the river and often, particularly in the festive season, are lined with lights making the spot even more photogenic.
So, while I may be breaking some unwritten code about ruining quiet places for locals, I would highly recommend you pop in and take a look the next time you’re passing.
And, if I mysteriously disappear after publishing this, blame the Royal Festiv’ati.