Blog

I arrive in the office. It’s quiet, I’m the first in, this is how most of the morning should be. I’ve done something special this morning, I’ve taken a stand against the tyranny of the Nescafe tub. All day long …

Spring has sprung, well, sort-of, and suddenly people are imbued with the desire to wear ray bans and have stupid haircuts, gilet-adorned Italians litter the Portobello road. The market stalls are flogging their wares – antique tat, I want that, …

Surely the most important coffee of all is the one you drink to start the working day. Nescafe instant is the brand that has greeted me most days of my illustrious tenure. Before we get to a serious review, a …

I’m ushered in. I’m just off a plane, head throbbing and trying to remain conscious. It is this, the dogged pursuit to seem cogent in civilised company that has been the shadow looming over my life. I’m not in a …

In some vainglorious attempt to make London less detestable, I’d decided upon a mission to find the finest coffee dens in the city, havens from the cruel streets outside. The day I happened upon Cafe Vergnano, however, I was embodying …

And now we travel back in my mind to the year of our lord 2010, to a chilly October morning when E and I tripped down Bateman Street to locate The Milk Bar. We go in, and it’s crowded. The …

You mention IKEA to people and they typically start shaking before falling to their knees and dry wretching until there’s blood. Yes, I too was something of an IKEA hater. This revile was originally engendered by the Croydon branch which …

A couple of times toward the end of 2010, I found myself waking up in Isleworth and needing to be in North London for 8.30. Being awake at an unreasonable hour, I gave in to a childish desire to have …

I walk into Caffe Nero, it is quite empty, but about to get busy. I order an expensive bottle of water and an Americano. The lady who serves me musters the kind of genuine warmth that only an Italian could. …

I was in a Starbucks. I don’t know where the fuck people are most of the time. I’ve ordered, I’ve sat down, paper cup housing mocha in hand and I have no re-collection of any of it. I was faintly …