Islington Cafe Plea
I’ve spent an uneventful weekend being ill, and I’m still rather lethargic. So apologies if I forget what I’m writing about half way through this entry.
I’ve been thinking about cafes, how happy I am sitting in them, and how I don’t have a local one yet. Whenever I move somewhere new I like to clock all the essentials fairly quickly – the nearest decent restaurants, the nearest decent pubs, the nearest decent cat. But I haven’t seen any likely looking cafes. They’ve either been far too posh or far too shite. I don’t want artisan creations and kids with wooden (fucking wooden!) toys. And I don’t just want a greasy spoon.
The nearest one is a proper greasy spoon gaff, with the added twist of borak and a special place right by the corner window where a woman makes flat bread. She’s not allowed to make the bread in the comfort and privacy of the back room – she’s forced onto a tiny cushion, and made to make it in plain sight of the hipsters and drunks and other passers by. Also, the seats don’t look very comfortable and the only customers seem to be five hundred years old. It just doesn’t appeal. Basically, I’ve never tried it.
A bit further up is a very posh cafe called food lab. It has lots of oranges in the window and the people sat outside all have very expensive push chairs and look like they are about to vote for David Cameron. Time Out reckons it’s good, but again it’s not quite what I’m looking for: it’s more deli than cafe, and I have no interest in delis. I just want a cup of tea.
Perhaps I should explain more what it is I am after, other than tea. I want newspapers, I want comfy chairs. I want children banned. I want cakes and toast available. I don’t want kids staring into their apple macs, I want people writing letters to long lost friends and sealing them with wax.
Shockingly I’ve yet to find a cafe like this in Islington. If anyone has any suggestions, i’d be delighted to hear them.