Once upon a time, every vacant building was turned into a bank or a bar – now they are turned into boutique hotels. Newest kid on the block is the Haymarket Hotel, which opened this week. It is from Firmdale Hotels, the group that also owns the popular Knightsbridge, Soho and Covent Garden hotels – and there has been a buzz of anticipation about the opening, as well as a launch party last Monday.

So we nipped in to try it out. The Haymarket is in a part of town that you have known all your life, but cannot place. It is best described as being round the corner from the Sainsbury wing of the National Gallery. The building is Regency, “created by John Nash”, according to the hotel brochure.

The decor can be described as gay: vivid colours, yellow and green, with a pink painting thrown in. In the lobby there is a good landscape by John Virtue, who paints only in black and white because he does not like “unnecessary distraction”. I wonder if he has seen where his painting hangs, surrounded by sofas covered in yellow cushions. The public areas are splendid, with bleached oak floors, a couple of sitting rooms – one with dodgy tree trunk stools and weird kitsch wooden chandeliers – and a large shooting gallery, in case you want to shoot somebody. I didn’t, for once, so went for dinner in the Brumus Restaurant, named after the owner’s dog.

This has a rather louche red interior, which clashes somewhat with the maroon shirts of the waiters. This is a good thing, because it distracts you from the somewhat sketchy service. The staff is very helpful, young and attractive, and seems to speak every language known to man, except English. I left my wife alone for an hour or so and she spent most of it trying to get her hands on a glass of wine. She said her teenage waiter had never heard of sauvignon blanc. Probably because he had only just stopped drinking Ribena. The food is Italian-based. I had lamb, which was delicious, while my wife ate her tortellini without complaining.

Upstairs we were given a large room with white walls, a whitish carpet and a nice big comfy bed. The view from our room on the first floor looked out over Her Majesty’s Theatre. Every so often an open-top bus would pull alongside and we could, if we chose, give them a regal wave from the bed. There was a big marble bathroom, with a bath and a separate shower, which you could have swung a cat in if you had wanted. There was even a flat-screen television opposite the bath, which my wife liked very much. It appealed to her inner chav.

The internet proved an issue. Hotels that charge a couple of hundred quid a night for a room should throw in the wireless connection. At the Haymarket they charged my wife £20, then wanted me to pay another £20. After a bit of persuasion they agreed to waive one of the fees. Still too much money in my opinion. There is one other drawback: they have the loudest doors of any hotel I have ever stayed in. It is impossible to shut them without a fearful clunk, not very helpful if the person next door comes in late or leaves early.

Perhaps, like some of its youthful staff, the hotel is having teething problems. “Just give me five minutes,” is the staff’s catchphrase. I think they need a bit longer than that. Maybe six months, but then it will be one of the jolliest places to stay in town.

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Bottom line: Rupert Wright paid £197 for a room and £98 for dinner for two.

Haymarket Hotel, 1 Suffolk Place, London SW1, tel. 020 7470 4000; www.haymarkethotel.com

Room: 8 out of 10.

Food: 7 out of 10.

Service: 6 out of 10.

Value: 7 out of 10.

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