I don't like posh coffee shops. I play it safe and stick with the big chains: Costa's, Caffe Nero and Starbucks, because you only need to know one Italian word to get a drink in those places: latte.
I never include 'grande' or any of that nonsense. If I want a large one then I'll just say, "a big latte please, mate". If they try and correct me with "a grande latte?" then I'll say, "yeah, a big latte". I will let them have one Italian word in a sentence, but not two -- that is pushing it. This is London, not Rome. They wouldn't like it if I tried to pay the bill in lire, so they can't have it both ways.
I always have a latte. I tried ordering an Americano once but it came without milk, so it appears that you have to ask for milk as a side dish -- that is too complicated. And don't get me started on espressos and cappuccinos -- they are tiny! They are minimalist drinks. If you accidentally spill a drop on the tabletop then they are basically gone before you've even had a sip.
They try and pass them off as concentrated coffee concoctions, like potent potions with smoke coming off the top, but the whole point of sitting in a coffee shop is so you can tick off another chunk of your life in silence. It's another thirty minutes closer to the end, isn't it? Another ten steps closer to the Pearly Gates. So I'll stick with my big latte, thank you very much. And I'll leave the espressos to George Clooney.
My favourite chain is Caffe Nero. Starbucks is full of students and Costa's is full of shoppers, but Caffe Nero always put ona bit of classical music on to keep out the kids. Students don't like classical music. It works in the same way as those high-pitched whistles they deploy to scare the foxes away from the dustbins -- if they put on a bit of Mozart then no student will go near the place.
Everyone has their own little routine in here. Everyone shakes the sugar bag a few times and tips it into the cup. Sometimes I imagine that the sugar grains are people being sucked under the coffee froth sea to their deaths (I might be a psychopath). Then they get their mobile phones out. Then they bury their heads in those for the next ten minutes. There's one couple in here right now who seem to be having a chat with two invisible people... they're just silently typing sentences into their phones while their partner does exactly the same thing two-feet across the table. No smiles. No noise needed. No human communication. Whatever words they're saying stay locked inside their heads.
I'm not such a big fan of Starbucks because I hate all of that fake friendliness they do, when they ask for your name every time you order a drink. I must have told them my name a thousand times by now but they still haven't got a clue who I am.
"Can I take your name, sir?" Yes, it's Craig.
The next day you come back in and go through the whole rigmarole all over again. "Can I take your name, sir?"
This repeats every day, with no one ever remembering anybody's name. "Can I take your name again, sir?"
They may as well just ask for your number instead, like they'll do in our dystopian future, because they don't really give a toss what your name is. Half the time I end up as Greg, or Dave, because they don't hear me mumbling Craig. But this old dear, here, is the complete opposite. As soon as she walked through the door the staff immediately perked up and greeted her like she's their long-lost mum.
Now she's holding up the queue and having a chat about her handbag dog, which she seems to be lovingly crushing to death in the crook of her arm. She's wrapped a big thick scarf around its head and is cupping its nose like she's feeding sugar lumps to a horse. I don't think she's famous (I don't recognise her), but maybe she's a Hollywood star without her make-up on. Or maybe she's the boss, and they're all sucking up for a pay rise.
Here's an amusing scene... you already know how their system works at Starbucks... you order your drink and give them your name, and then they bellow out "ADOLF!" (or whatever) at the top of their voice for the whole world to hear when it's ready. Well, this system works perfectly fine until you get a crazy person turn up -- and that is who I am watching right now. John is his name (crazy John), and he's got a smile on his face like a cat who's just got the cream.
He was already given his cup of coffee five minutes ago but then another John turned up, and now crazy John has waltzed over and picked his coffee up when they called out his identical name. And he's still standing at the counter right now, holding his two cups of drink and telling absolutely everybody in the shop about his good fortune. He genuinely thinks he's got a freebie, but we all know that he stole it. The second John (a skinny dude who wouldn't say boo to a goose) has decided to ignore the crime and the staff are kindly making him another one. A brazen theft, but a successful heist. Maybe John isn't so crazy after all.
If you come in during the evening then it's a whole different atmosphere. People sit on their own at four-seater tables. People read books and stare out of the window at the wet ribbon of car lights creeping up the Strand. I don't think these people ever blink. We're just sitting here waiting for our coffee to go cold. We're stirring circles in our tea just to keep it moving.
People only eat the fattening cake at night time, I have noticed. They sit there with a piece of cake. In silence. Then they eat the cake. Then they go home. And then they cry.
