The hotel? The City of London isn’t the first place you might look for some peace and quiet, and Threadneedles, a few strides from the Bank of England, doesn’t promote itself as the perfect weekend retreat. Which is a trick missed, because every Friday, legions of stockbrokers make for their weekend cottages out of town, leaving the Square Mile — an area with more history and culture per square yard than anywhere else in Britain — serene and surreally deserted.

Threadneedles, housed in a venerable former bank (naturally), styles itself as the City’s only boutique hotel — which translates as trendy beige-and-brown decor, Frette linen, casual but attentive service and a hip bar/restaurant, Bonds, downstairs. It has contemporary art on the walls, a TV in every bathroom and, under the original glass dome in the lobby, a rug that reputedly cost £30,000. In short, everything looks like it cost a bomb (which it did — the refurbishment came in at £19m), and will require a long chat with your bank manager when the bill comes in.

Not at the weekend it won’t. Rates plummet, so you end up with exec-style luxury at a shopfloor price — and, of course, you have the run of the City.

Much to do, then? Order the full English breakfast, because you’ve a packed day ahead. Start with a 10-minute stroll up Poultry and Cheapside to the excellent Museum of London (020 7600 3699; free) to soak up a little of the 2,000 years of history that lies under your feet, and find out why the streets have such silly names.

Next, walk back down Aldersgate Street to Postman’s Park, an idiosyncratic patch of green lined with plaques commemorating the life-saving feats of ordinary citizens of Victorian London. Then it’s on along St Martins-le-Grand to St Paul’s (£6), Wren’s crowning achievement. Sure, it’s touristy, but it’s no less wonderful for that.

When you’re done, stand in St Paul’s Churchyard and look down Peter’s Hill for a stunning study in architectural contrasts: behind you, the 17th century’s finest; in front, the 21st century’s most ridiculed, the “wobbly” Millennium Bridge (now stabilised and slowly being recognised as a wonderful addition to the Thames); and beyond, Sir Giles Gilbert Scott’s Bankside power station, now transformed into Tate Modern. The elevated, the whimsical and the beautifully brutal, all crammed into one of the best views in London.

Stroll down the hill, over the bridge and into the Tate (free), where an Icelandic artist, Olafur Eliasson, has installed a blazing artificial sun at one end of the huge turbine hall, to head- spinning effect. Just downriver is Shakespeare’s Globe, where the exhibition hall (£8) offers a fascinating insight into showmanship and theatricality, Stuart-style. Walk on along Bankside, pass under Southwark Bridge, and the winding alleys lead you to The Clink Prison Museum (1 Clink Street; £4). Yes, it’s where the expression comes from, and it’s also full of bone-chilling exhibits.

Now you are seconds from the bustle of Borough Market (Saturday 9am-4pm), with the tastiest fish, cheese, game, bread and beer from around the UK, and lots of imported delicacies.

And at night? If you’re not too footsore, nip back for some Shakespeare at the Globe. For dinner, you could do worse than Bonds, at your hotel; and the West End, with more restaurants than you can shake a chopstick at, is a 10-minute cab ride away. For clubbing, though, stay east: Fabric, at 77A Charterhouse Street, is the best in town.

Who should go: historians; nightclubbers; nightclubbing historians; anyone who fancies having the City to themselves.

Who shouldn’t: merchant bankers. Off to Surrey with you.

Threadneedles hotel, 5 Threadneedle Street, EC2; 020 7657 8100, www.theetongroup.com; weekend doubles from £155, B&B

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