Joseph Mitchell, the American journalist and writer elevated the art of writing about the demise of favourite restaurants which are now lost to the relentless forces of development. He passionately believed that the soul of his cherished city, New York, could be found somewhere, it would be in the backstreet eating houses.
In the wistful echo of Mitchell's spirits, I cannot help but lament the rude health of cherished London establishments, each bearing its own unique tapestry of fondness.
Whether it is the announcement of the closure of the two-Michelin star restaurant Le Gavroche, a pioneer of the food scene for more than five decades, or the closing down of the legendary Banner's café in Crouch End after three-long decades which also drew the enigmatic Bob Dylan, it felt the gems from long-ago London, untouched, unreconstituted and ungentrified, were falling apart, each at a time, as the long days of summer start to fade away.
However, my heart will always resonate most profoundly with the permanent closure of the India Club – the capital’s most singular restaurant and bar – an institution to my mind that belongs to a different category.