Hopbunker

5–7 Queen Street, Cardiff [map]

After various incarnations over the years, including short-lived rock joint Bogiez, much-missed indie toilet the Barfly and raffle pedlar the Rose & Crown, this corner of Queen Street is now, officially, a bunker of booze.

Which, if you are going to be stuck in a bunker for any length of time, isn't a bad one to be in.

Negotiate the spiral staircase – easier said than done if you're in the midst of a serious all-dayer and are experiencing some issues with regards to maintaining a vertical base – and you're rewarded with a bar brimming with real ales, craft beers and various other libations in which myriad obscure things have been done to unsuspecting hops.

In other words, the Foster's is off – permanently.

There's a curious ambience to the place, partly because it's underground and has no natural light, and partly because the interior looks as if it's been furnished from an Argos catalogue circa 1996.

Still, just look at that beer menu.

It's all too much for that bloke at the bottom left to cope with. "Butcombe Yeti? Lincoln Green Marion? Mahrs Bräu Ungespundet? I just can't decide!" (And we didn't even make any of those up.)

The novelty urinal is a bit of a thing these days, isn't it?

Artigiano

115 Queen Street, Cardiff [map]

It's not really our natural habitat this, a kind of indie coffee shop-cum-craft beer dispensary lurking at the wrong end of Queen Street.

Indeed, I can't say I'm a massive fan of any bar area in which the falling-down water has to share space with gluten-free cakes, but there you go. There are also paninis and wraps on offer, if you like that sort of thing.

Of course, the only acceptable form of sustenance during a session in the 'Diff is a bag of chips from Caroline Street.

On tap is their own craft lager and cider, Estrella and Charles Wells DNA. Plus there's wine, a smattering of spirits and - according to my notes - "a fridge full of bittled beers".

I have no idea what bittled beers are but they sound interesting.

On the way in, there's also this extraneous coffee counter (seen here from the balcony). Which is clearly of no use to us.

At this point, and for reasons known only to himself, The Photographer attempts to demonstrate the concept of centrifugal force - by spinning around this almost-full pint glass. The end result being that he pours most of his drink over my shoes.

Still, we learn something from the experience:

1. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing

2. Never go drinking with The Photographer without a change of socks