Café world

The area where we lived this year is about as civilised as a spam factory, but it does have one amazing quality. This place of wonder, the ultimate Thursday morning cure, the secret to student Ville…the café!
For a beautiful price of £3.50 you can get a full fried breakfast and drink, it may not be heaven, but it certainly isn’t too far off. I would like to think that if the world collapsed (or Chester self- combusted) then the café would be the venue all the survivors end up. A little piece of edible heaven.
Our house has always gone there after a night of, shall we say, vigorous, none eating and welcomed the rewards of comfort food the following day. So this week’s visit was no exception.
However, there was one difference. It was the last time Becky, Claire and I would all go together. As we all sank our teeth into Chester’s best bacon ensemble there was a definite feeling of grief. The baked beans that coated the fried egg just were not as ‘Heinz’ as normal.
And even the white plates that constantly spin on the lino table cloths were not making us as goofy as usual.
What had happened?
There was bound to be café’s all over the globe and they could probably offer everything our little one here did.
It seems this is yet another string-to-the-bow of tissue needing memories that are arising.
What I do know is that it has turned my brain into English breakfast mode; wonder if we have any bacon…