On the surface, the part of London known as the Isle of Dogs has little to recommend itself.
Blocks of what were once, I suppose, called Yuppie flats compete for the skyline in a neighbourhood that used to be the beating heart of the capital’s ship-building industry.
It’s an area centred around Millwall Docks, which gave their name to the tough-talking football team of the same name, now moved across the river to Bermondsey.
Although there are pockets of almshouses and cottages to be found and some sympathetic warehouse and forge conversions, it feels a little lacking in soul.
As if there is nowhere to do anything other sleep before making more money in the nearby towers of Canary Wharf.
That’s until you get halfway up Westferry Road and are greeted by this beauty.
This Victorian Presbyterian chapel clad in wonderful brickwork has been converted into a small theatre downstairs and upstairs, a sweet little bolthole – a prime spot to eat, drink and read the papers.
We were there for Saturday brunch. The all-day breakfast was good and hearty and relatively inexpensive.
The sausage and bacon were ‘proper meat’ and the beans, unless my tastebuds were failing me, from Mr Heinz – which is as sure a sign of a good fry-up as any.
It was washed it down with a couple of pints of Guinness.
It’s called Hubbub.
We would have stayed longer, but we had a date at another watering hole, back across the river and into Rotherhithe.
But more of that, perhaps, another day.