Angelika and the band at Cabot Place

Twenty past seven on a Thursday, and the lifts at One Canada Square are still emptying. Angelika times her arrival for exactly this moment. She is 172 cm, athletic in the way of a woman who has played tennis for years, with long black hair worn perfectly straight and brown eyes that take in a lobby in a single pass. She dresses for the building without looking corporate: a column dress in deep green, gold at the ears, a cropped jacket she drops over the chair the moment she sits.

Confidence shows first, playfulness a close second. She will tease you about the tie you kept on, then ask a real question about your day and wait for the whole answer. Her English is fluent and quick. Contemporary art is her daytime habit, and she has views on the sculpture scattered around the Wharf's squares, some of them generous. Mornings start on a hard court whenever she can book one. Evenings, ideally, end within earshot of a live band.

Her Canary Wharf evening has one fixed point: Boisdale of Canary Wharf, up in Cabot Place, where musicians play most nights and the room fills with people who have also just closed a laptop. She wants a table where the stage sits in plain view, orders something light, and saves her conversation for the gaps between numbers. Afterwards the walk back beside the dock takes six minutes, or twenty, depending entirely on you.

She lives in Mayfair and rides the Elizabeth line east in about a quarter of an hour, so a Canary Wharf request sent at six is realistic by seven. Each length is priced on the rates page; send her name to booking and the desk confirms it in writing.