It’s a long way to the top at this tiny corner pub, so our advice is to expedite the journey and bypass the bottom floor altogether. It’s just a sports bar, anyway, and things get way more interesting the higher you go. Skip the Thai kitchen and dining area on the second floor too, although the antique stained-glass window depicting a cancan girl flashing her frilly bloomers deserves a squiz to remind you this is one of those rare character-infused Sydney pubs that hasn’t had a tacky facelift in the last 15 years. The third floor, housing little more than a pool table and jukebox, is bare and grungy in a uni common room kind of way, while the rooftop is where you really want to be. We love how climbing that last steep flight of stairs and emerging into daylight feels like heading above deck on an old boat, but what we really love is that there’s a tiny, secluded kiosk-type bar up here, just floating in a sea of skyscrapers. Now all you need to do is grab a table, sit back and while away the hours. The vibe’s chilled and divey, the beer’s cold and cheap, there are shade sails to protect against the glare and weather, and the punters are young and friendly. Someone wise once said something about giving thanks for simple pleasures – he was probably at Sweeney’s drinking on the roof.