Bookings, I fear, will be Devonshire-esque. That is to say, extremely difficult to get — just as they are in New York, where people flock to enjoy spicy rigatoni on colourful patterned plates on white tablecloths. Visit the restaurant website and try to make a booking now. You are unlikely to succeed. The fact is, getting anywhere near a table is notoriously difficult. The New Yorker published a piece not so long ago about how to get one, in which the author talked about a “secret” email, one they described as difficult to come by. I managed. How? Was it from Barry from EastEnders? I cannot possibly say. All you need to know is I got a spot somewhere near the bar, in the thrum of things, at 8.15pm. And so I know a little of what London might expect.