There's something about how you deal with a weekend hangover that reveals so much. Do you hit the gym to sweat it out? Do you curl beneath the duvet and wish you were dead? Or is it straight to the nearest Bloody Mary?

Personally, nothing comes close to a cracking Sunday morning brunch: hook me up with a plate of eggs florentine at the Breakfast Club in Hoxton, a litre of fresh OJ and maybe a cold glass of rosé, and all is forgiven.

But what if you fancy something a little more luxurious? That oenophilic haven, The East Room, is now inviting even non-members to share in the Sunday breakfasts on its glorious roof terrace - 'papers in one hand, pink bubbly in the other, the sun above and a plate of huevos rancheros in front.