There's a sandwich board outside, the word 'heritage' caught my eye. You actually walk through the ground floor of a terrace house and down a flight of stairs into the most amazing sunken courtyard surrounded by old houses and filled with trees.
Filled with besuited patrons, I scurried to an empty table to get the lay of the land. Everyone was looking at me. Not a situation I favour. With table service not eventuating, I went to the counter to order coffee. The older gentleman behind the coffee machine elbowed his younger colleague aside, bellowing 'I will serve the nice lady!'
Timidly, I ordered a coffee 'to have here' from the basic coffee/tea/biscuit menu, gesturing at the table I wanted.
'Of course, may I join you?' he oozed with a smile.
I find a double bluff usually works. 'You'd be more than welcome' I smiled back, scurrying off.
Thankfully it got busy and ladies' man barista sent his younger minion over to bring my coffee, apologising over-profusely in a Russian accent that it was in the wrong kind of glass. Not a problem. I sat under the plane trees in the sparkling sun and listened to the suits mutter importantly about mergers and the vagaries of The Board. The coffee was good, and the locale amazing. I can't find their phone number, accurate opening hours or website, and considered the ramifications of asking flirty older gentleman for the info. I may never escape the place alive. There's a lot I'm willing to do for the sake of accuracy, but hey, there's limits.
I got the distinct impression that this place is a bit of a secret, jealously guarded by corporate types who work nearby. I say it is time to rise up and wrest it from their hegemony. And the staff could sure use the thrill... read more