Wanting to take advantage of a rare Sunday off (I’m managing a café on weekends but that’s a story for another day) and an even rarer beautiful sunny day, I decided to cycle to the Sunday markets in Spitalfield. The day did not start well after an altercation in Hyde Park. A man took issue with me cycling in a no cycling section of the park (around 99% of the park) and actually grabbed me and tried to pull me off my bike. The fact that he could grab me shows how slowly and carefully I was riding your Honour. Despite Ken Livingstone's proclamations I haven't found London to be overly bike friendly. The unpleasant exchange ended with him yelling “Piss off back to your own country” and me replying “So you’re uptight, a knob AND a racist”. To which he surprisingly agreed.
By the time I reached the markets I was in desperate need of a coffee and in no mood for a frappuccino. I circled the markets and its surrounds before homing in on Market Coffee House on Brushfield St.
It had all the markings of a good coffee experience: next to a foodie mecca A. Gold, coffee served in small cups rather than mugs, lots of customers and friendly ones too who were happy to share tables, and some antipodean accents behind the counter. Maybe I’m racist when it comes to who I trust to make my coffee.
After a false start (in my still shaken state I ordered a white coffee and was handed a long black with cold milk) my persistence paid off and I was rewarded with a lovely latte.
All was well with the world again.