The Travel Critic

Picture the scene: it’s the office Christmas party. You know the type. The “celebration” where enthusiasm is proportionate to the amount of Pinot Grigio consumed, and nobody really wants to be there except Sandra from accounts (until she’s crying in the corner). The buffet is a fluorescent homage to beige, the wine a choice between battery acid red and white that’s somehow both warm and tasteless. The DJ? A Christmas classic jukebox with wandering eyes. And let’s not forget the HR reviews scheduled for the next day. It’s corporate purgatory with tinsel.

But then, we did something radical. We picked The Granary Club.

Tucked away near Queen Square, The Granary Club is what happens when someone finally says, “You know, we deserve better.” It’s a bar with soul, the kind of place where you walk in and immediately feel as though you’ve stumbled into the lobby of a five-star boutique hotel. The décor is achingly chic: all exposed brick and soft lighting, the perfect balance between industrial edge and understated elegance.

The food? A revelation. Slow-cooked lamb that melted as if in apology for every dry turkey sandwich you’ve ever endured, and truffle flatbreads so decadent you could practically hear them sneer at the sad, shrivelled sausage rolls of Christmas past.

The drinks were where The Granary really shone. No hurriedly poured house spirits sloshed into sticky glasses here. Every cocktail was crafted with care, each one a small masterpiece of flavour and presentation. The Old Fashioned was a triumph, the Espresso Martini rich enough to fuel you through even the longest rendition of “Fairytale of New York.”

And the vibe? Impeccable. A soft hum of festivity without the forced jollity of a seasonal cattle market. Even Dave, who usually communicates exclusively through email, managed to relax. And Sandra? She didn’t cry once.

The Granary Club didn’t just save the Christmas party; it redefined it. So, if you’re planning an event and you actually care about your staff, this is the place. Because let’s face it—if the Christmas party doesn’t feel like a reward, what’s the point?