A Night Inside The Ned
Architecture hospitality and a changing rhythm in the City of London
Words and photographs by JJ Wong
The banking hall at The Ned, where green columns, hanging lights and long counters establish the scale of the former Midland Bank.
I had already been inside The Ned. In 2020, I came for brunch at Malibu Kitchen and remembered the scale of the banking hall long afterwards. This time, I wanted to stay the night. I was curious about how a building like this would feel once it became somewhere to sleep, have breakfast and spend time between meals.
I knew it would be grand. What I could not know in advance was how comfortable I would feel within all that grandeur.
Arriving at Bank
We arrived at around 10.30 on Friday morning, coming by Tube to Bank. It was an easy arrival in a part of London I already knew through Fortnum & Mason at The Royal Exchange, just across the road. Outside, the Exchange’s columns stood against the glass towers behind it. The journey from the station placed us immediately among the buildings that give this part of the City its character.
The Royal Exchange, photographed from outside The Ned. Fortnum & Mason had already made this a familiar part of London for me.
The Ned occupies the former Midland Bank headquarters, designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens and now listed at Grade I. That history is especially tangible in the banking hall. Tall green columns rise to ornate pale capitals; long counters organise the room below them. Bowl-shaped lights repeat overhead, while the black-and-white floor draws the eye through the space. Even knowing what to expect, I found the scale arresting.
I had booked and paid for the stay directly, then contacted Hotel Director Mairead, who kindly arranged a tour with Guest Relations. Fred, the Guest Relations Manager, greeted us. He needed a little time to finish something, so he showed us to Electric Bar & Diner and offered us drinks while we waited. It was a thoughtful start to the visit.
Electric Bar, where Fred offered us a drink before showing us around the hotel.
Following the details
Walking around with Fred, I was struck by how much space the hotel contained. There seemed to be another room or passage beyond each one we entered. At times, I felt I could get lost in it.
The smaller details kept drawing me back from that overwhelming scale. A lamp with a horse-head base carried an orange patterned shade. Near reception, red upholstery was deeply buttoned and edged with cord. Elsewhere, a globe wall light sat on a dark metal fitting beside timber panelling. I found myself photographing lighting almost as often as rooms.
The patterns rewarded attention too: the geometry of floors and glazed partitions, the weave and ornament of textiles, the repetition of lights between columns. Large fittings illuminated the high spaces, while small shaded lamps brought light down to the level of a table or chair. The effort invested in the materials felt considerable. I kept noticing objects I wanted to look at more closely.
One of the tour’s highlights was Fred opening The Vault. The enormous circular door made the building’s former purpose immediately physical. Inside, the bar and lounge occupy the old strongroom, with 3,000 original safety deposit boxes still lining the space.
Seeing those rows of small doors, I thought about the possessions people had once entrusted to the bank. Now there were upholstered chairs, patterned seating, small lamps and drinks tables within that metal enclosure. I found it extraordinary. The conversion had left enough of the strongroom visible for its earlier use to remain present throughout the room.
T: The circular vault door, opened during our daytime tour with Fred.
B: Inside The Vault, upholstered seating and small lamps sit against walls of original safety deposit boxes.
Fred also told us something about himself. He had completed a master’s in Political Economy at LSE, then chosen hospitality because he enjoyed the work. I understood the appeal of finding a direction different from the one a degree might suggest. I had read law before going into retail leasing, where I found my own professional interest. The conversation gave us something to share beyond the tour itself.
The room upstairs
Our Medium Room brought the scale down to something more domestic. Green walls sat beneath broad white cornicing, with a glass chandelier overhead. A dark wooden bed had a shaped headboard and footboard; at its foot stood a bench upholstered in gold tones and geometric fabric. Two deep teal armchairs faced a small round table beside the window.
Our Medium Room, with green walls, a shaped wooden bed, patterned textiles and a pair of teal armchairs beside the window.
The room continued the layering I had enjoyed downstairs. Patterned curtains framed geometric sheers. A rug covered much of the floor. At the bedside, a black rotary-style telephone sat on glossy patterned timber, beside a dark-shaded lamp and beneath an adjustable reading light.
Our package included a bottle of Champagne Thiénot Brut, which we opened that evening. It was waiting in a bucket beside glasses and the room’s other bottles. The champagne was included; the other wines and spirits were not. With the armchairs drawn around the table, the room had somewhere to sit together as well as somewhere to sleep.
The bedding was extremely comfortable. I could hear footsteps in the corridor before I fell asleep, so I had some reservations about the soundproofing. Once asleep, I slept through the night.
The bathroom supplied another small pleasure: an almost comical abundance of choice. Eight Cowshed bottles lined the shower shelf, including different bath and shower gels, a scrub, shampoos and conditioners. Body lotion, Marvis toothpaste and amenities in labelled pouches occupied a separate trolley. I was particularly taken with the razor, its shaped handle and polished metal fittings. It was a useful little example of why the hotel’s materials kept catching my attention.
A different pace below ground
That afternoon, we joined a sound meditation session led by Lauren Raby at Ned’s Club Gym, on Basement 3. About ten days before arriving, I had emailed the gym to ask about attending. Deividas replied promptly and made sure we could join. That exchange had already made the session feel easy to arrange.
The gym itself was another surprise. The hotel describes a space of 620 square metres on its lowest level, with three studios and marble changing rooms. What struck me was how much attention its design had received. I found the changing rooms particularly beautiful. This was a gym I enjoyed looking around, even before the session began.
Lauren led the meditation in a room at the far end. I found it deeply relaxing. Within the same building that could feel almost overwhelming in its scale, the session gave the afternoon a welcome change of pace.
Friday dinner at Lutyens Grill
Lutyens Grill was one of the strongest reasons I would return to The Ned. The dining room continued the richness of the building through timber panelling, glazed partitions, patterned chair backs and white table linen. We chose the Friday Unlimited Prime Rib three-course dinner.
Each of us began with half a grilled lobster with garlic butter. It was a very good start. Then came the 45-day-aged rare breed prime rib, served with mash, creamed spinach and red wine jus.
I am not a particularly big meat eater, but I loved this. The meat was so tender it seemed to melt in the mouth, and I would place it among the best beef I have eaten. Lutyens Grill holds the No. 35 position in the 2026 World’s 101 Best Steak Restaurants list. My own enthusiasm came from what was on the plate. It was an immensely satisfying main course.
For dessert, the chocolate mousse brought the meal to an enjoyable finish. We also had crème caramel topped with cherries, a combination that did not quite work for either of us. We preferred the mousse.
Our waitress added greatly to the evening. She was friendly, and we chatted about her family’s roots in Zhejiang and her upbringing in northern Italy. It reminded me of a Thai member of restaurant staff I had met at Park Hyatt Bangkok who had also grown up in Italy. These unexpected connections are one of the pleasures of travelling. I would happily come back to Lutyens Grill for another dinner.
The hotel after dark
By evening, the banking hall had acquired another atmosphere. A live band played on the central platform. People stood drinking and talking, dressed for a Friday night out. I could imagine the room in a Hollywood party scene. It was fascinating to be part of it for a night, although the amount of activity eventually became more than I enjoyed.
After dinner, my two cousins joined us for drinks. There were two of us staying at the hotel and two visitors. Our booking gave us access to The Vault, and I had assumed we could take them with us. We were told that they could not enter because they were not staying at the hotel.
I understood that there was a policy. What disappointed me was the manner of the exchange. The response felt indifferent, and no flexibility was offered. For a request involving just two visitors accompanying two paying residents, it felt petty and ungenerous to me. I did not know what discretion the staff member had, but I would have appreciated a warmer explanation.
We went to Millie’s Lounge instead. When I asked for a table, the first response was to ask whether I was a hotel guest and for my room number. There was no smile or greeting. Those were reasonable questions; a small gesture of welcome would have changed how it felt to be asked them.
Millie’s Lounge on Friday evening, where we had drinks with my cousins.
I found myself thinking about an earlier essay, The Performance of Living Well, in which I had written about the distance that can open between an attractive experience and being fully present within it. The Ned gave that thought a specific setting. I admired the rooms, the furnishings and the care invested in them, yet the evening did not feel entirely relaxing.
Living in Umbria has changed the rhythm to which I am accustomed. I still enjoy cities and the company of other people, but I have become more sensitive to stimulation. A room full of people can be enjoyable up to a point, then begin to feel tiring. That threshold is personal. Someone else could find precisely the same Friday evening exhilarating.
Looking around, I wondered how the people within this glamorous scene were feeling. Did being there feel as good as it looked? I could see how beautifully the room framed an evening out; I could not know the private experience of the people in it. I was taking photographs too, enjoying the setting and contributing my own images of it. The question included me.
By morning, I was also reconsidering the staff encounters. I wondered what a packed Friday evening felt like from their side: whether they had been overwhelmed, or whether I had met them at a difficult point in their day. I wanted to hear more about their work. Without that conversation, I could only leave the question open. My disappointment remained, alongside a growing interest in what had happened behind the exchange.
Breakfast the following morning
At breakfast, Millie’s Lounge felt different. The staff were lovely, and I felt welcomed. The same room in which the previous evening had begun so awkwardly now gave us one of the most enjoyable parts of the stay.
The food was delicious. For two people, we ordered a buttery, flaky croissant, baked eggs with Trealy Farm chorizo, peppers, potatoes and kale, an omelette, a bowl of mixed fruit, a side of Cumberland sausages and coffee. Toast arrived too. Looking at the table, I suspected we had overordered.
Breakfast for two at Millie’s Lounge the following morning. We may have overordered.
After breakfast, I saw Fred at reception. He asked about our evening, and I praised dinner before mentioning The Vault. He reiterated the policy and suggested that it could have been particularly busy around 10pm, requiring limits on entry. I appreciated his attempt to explain, although I remained unconvinced. I had understood the refusal as a rule about our visitors, and the lack of welcome had bothered me as much as the restriction.
Breakfast made it difficult to turn two disappointing encounters into a judgement about the whole hotel. Fred’s welcome, Deividas’s help with the class and the warmth at dinner were part of the same stay. So was this morning’s kindness. Hospitality is experienced through individual exchanges, and those exchanges had varied considerably within less than a day.
Beside the pool
After breakfast, I went to the indoor pool. Three other guests were using it, and I did not end up swimming. Instead, I settled on a striped lounger and looked around.
The room was mesmerising. Light from the water moved across the ceiling. Green columns and veined walls enclosed the pool, with warm wall lights along its edge. The black-and-white floor had its own geometry, set against the stripes of the loungers. Here again were the lighting, patterns and materials I had been noticing since we arrived.
I had come to The Ned wanting to experience a historical building as somewhere to stay. By this point I had enjoyed an exceptional dinner, slept extremely well and felt both welcome and unwelcome within it. Beside the pool, there was very little I needed to do. I was happy to stay where I was.
Stories shaped by the art of noticing.
Before you leave, you are invited to sign The Guestbook.
We stayed in a Medium Room, booked and paid for directly. Our package included one night, a bottle of Champagne Thiénot Brut, £200 dining credit for the hotel restaurants and breakfast for two up to £32 per person. After I booked, Hotel Director Mairead arranged a Guest Relations tour; Fred offered complimentary drinks while we waited. This account reflects my own experience during my stay in October 2026.
Stay at The Ned
If you are considering staying in London, you can check current room rates and availability for The Ned through the link below.
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I booked and paid for this stay independently. FGT may receive a small commission if you make a booking through the Trip.com link above, at no additional cost to you. All observations and opinions in this article are my own.
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Further Reading
The Performance of Living Well - on travel, appearances and being present within an experience
The Places We Carry - on the different rhythms and feelings of home between Asia and Umbria
Unless otherwise credited, all photography and written content are original works by Foodie Goes Travel.
