Let's get this clear: Valentine's Day is a commercialised hellscape. A disastrous day ruled by anxiety for those of us not in couples. If you're not smooching your partner in a twee restaurant, making valiant waiters interrupt you to take your order, does Valentine's Day even exist? It's not that I mind romance, I just don't like to be saccharine about it. Anyway, all of this made my dinner at Ting, the Chinesethemed restaurant halfway up The Shard, especially funny.

Before sitting down I was confronted by not one, not two, but three humansized floral cutouts of hearts. They were backlit for Instagram, because if nothing else Valentine's Day makes for great marketing. In case we couldn't work it out, upon taking our seats a waiter proclaimed that the restaurant was "a great place for a romantic dinner."

I'd taken a good friend for dinner rather than a partner, but a friend who teetered on the brink between friendship and romance. We'd been voice noting all year but days earlier he'd revealed he'd be moving to Australia, so we'd decided on a slap up meal to celebrate: a toast somewhere high. He'd never been up The Shard, so there we were.

At Ting, Valentine's Day feels even more reductive than it does on the ground. There is simply no need to hammer the message home when the environment is this romantic. Chairs are carefully positioned so that as many diners as possible get views over the capital, and live musicians play love ballads. We're halfway up The Shard so everyone's tingly with excitement. There's an addictive energy, and unlike other sky-high restaurants in the capital (I won't name names) the food is actually good.

We swerved the four-course truffle menu because there can be too much of a good thing. Instead we dove into something far more romantic: a gutbusting five courses. In reality the courses are fairly small, but precisely enough to fill you up. The Experience menu could certainly be more Chinese, but it proffers exciting little dishes that are as fun to look at as they are to taste.

Mushroom toast with grilled portobello, shiitake soy and fermented cep boasted lovely folds of mushroom, succumbing to the bread like layers of apple atop an elaborate tarte tatin. A salmon wonton tart with avocado, wasabi and coconut foam was just the right amount of novelty to spark a conversation, while sprouting broccoli with satay sauce and puffed black rice had a welcome lightness. Soy braised short rib with potato, nori terrine and kale chimichurri was small but perfectly formed. The chocolate and miso pudding was decadent enough to make me crave retreating to bed for anything but Valentine's Day sex.

Back to the sexual tension: we'd got through a bottle of orange wine before buzzing the lift to Gong, the bar at the top of the Shangri-La hotel on The Shard's highest floor, where house music replaces the ballads. It's a great spot to feel high, in every sense. After too much vino and the speedy lift, Gong's floor-to-ceiling glass windows feel close, almost like aeroplane windows. After the amount we'd drunk, being in Gong felt like flying.

It had ticked past one in the morning and staff told us that the man shaking our spicy margs had to go home. Heavy on our feet, we made for the lift, but a sign for the rooftop infinity pool caught our eye. We swung open the door, looked at each other, then slowly removed our shoes. Next thing we knew we were in the warm, inviting water in our underwear and ogling the view of the darkened London skyline. Arms resting on the pool's edge, we watched kebabed throngs milling around London Bridge fifty floors below until a security man politely asked us to leave.

Shangri-La really needn't bother with Valentine's Day, it's already romantic enough.

£ Gong-shangri-la.com; Ting-shangrila.com; 0207 234 8108

We made for the lift, but a sign for the rooftop infinity pool caught our eye. We swung open the door, looked at each other, then slowly removed our shoes

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