Caffe Nero

Here’s the plan; You get a vacant ex off-​licence site in the centre of a busy and lovely village shopping area and you remodel it into a venue that knows how to make espresso coffee when all about either haven’t got a machine or don’t know how to work it. It was and is a good idea and rightly popular causing the opposition convert to a charity shop or up their game. The room is fairly spacious, both it and the staff are child-​friendly and the iced water is topped-​up regularly. The décor posters of the leathery old dudes playing cards provide comfort as they remind me, a) of the sofas. b) that I am nearly a part of that peer group except I bet they don’t lose at Snap and c) I am emulating the kind of thing other blokes do in a country that has the Uffizi Gallery so can’t be THAT bad: Namely, sitting about.
There are a couple of flies in this corporately themed ointment however. One strategic and the other tactical. Firstly, the few pavement seats face North and so are condemned to be for the hardy tobacco users pretty much who get the often enviable view of the sunlight casting short shadows on that dappled terrace across the street which has the wider pavement. Temperature differences, and I have measured them, can be at least 10deg C. on the same day. (I do remember that one day when we needed to be in the shade). So, the old conundrum applies… Is it better to sail on the ugly boat looking enviably at the more beautiful or to… etc.
The second problem is this; oops can’t explain, not allowed to rant.

As much as I complain about the homogenisation of our town and city centres I must admit that I really do love a good cup of coffee and you always know that at Caffe Nero you’re going to get a good cup of strong, black coffee.
This branch looks, of course, almost identical to every other branch of Caffe Nero — all the décor, the faded photographs of wizened, Mediterranean-​looking hands grasping an espresso cup, the sturdy Van Gough-​bedroom wooden chairs, the beaten leather couches, all of it comes from a warehouse on the outskirts of Crawley or somewhere. What separates this branch out is the quality of service. Maybe it’s that it’s in a relatively small town but there is always extra care and attention put into making sure you’re satisfied with your hot drinks and/​or food (although why anyone would pay almost £5 for a pre-​packed chicken pesto salad is beyond me).
This being Formby the copy of the Guardian on the newspaper rack is usually completely untroubled. Lovely stuff.