There is nothing between Tottenham Court Road and Mornington Crescent. It's a howling desolation of road and abandoned sofa warehouses.
But there is a cocktail bar. Called 4th Estate. And it's rather minxy and lovely. It's all snug wood panels and ceiling fans and smooth tunes, with a New Yawk feel and an authentically American waiter who takes ten minutes to make a martini as he's waiting "for the glass to get right".
Unfortunately the contrast between freezing desolation outside and warm snug inside means that within fifteen minutes of entering, you are asleep.