William Sitwell reviews Harlequin, London: 'Beat a path to its door, wherever you live'

[Λησηүмσυs(¯`◕‿◕´¯)]

yes closed, the sun beating down. You’re on a sunbed somewhere toasty, chatting with friends, pausing occasionally to summon up the effort to find the glass beside you that’s filled with something cool and fizzy.

One of my favourite games to play during such sybaritic moments is to imagine your own restaurant. You can conceive of the location, décor, wines and menu.

Those lying around the pool can argue about the relative merits of their establishment. It is the perfect fantasy pastime. Because you can chat about the glassware and crockery, the clothes the staff might wear, the wine list and the chairs, safe in the knowledge that you will never be so foolish as to attempt to make the dream a...