I’ve bobbed in here several times in the last few years and it’s been raining every single time. At least I think it was.; I usually zone out to lesson the experience of walking around Crewe as someone being tortured by the Taliban so maybe it was 25c and sunny – I don’t know.
This cafe is one of the very few highlights of the benighted town. While working remotely once, I tried to join a meeting via Skype from the table outside but my conversation was drowned out by the swearing and ranting of the alcoholics sat outside the dodgy pub nearby. Maybe I’ll stick to the home office in future but I’m just glad to be out of the house these (post-lockdown) days. And to be fair, they’ve laid out the yawnsome furniture quite well in the new Covid arrangements. There are stickers on the floor but they seem to be mostly ignored though some of the punters wore masks – which is a vast improvement if you’ve seen the beauties of this town.
The menu offers standard nectar for Crewies (i.e. fry-ups) but there are other options too. Omelettes, toasties and salads blah blah, usually fine and they do GF and alternative milks if you want it. Coffee is just passable so you won’t be doing a cartwheel of joy after your first slurp.
I gorped out of the window through the splashes of water across the car park to the still-closed Lyceum Theatre. If you need to splash your boots though, you will have to visit the fairly grim public toilet next door. Oh the glam! But if it ever does get hot and sunny, the large windows turn it into a huge greenhouse so it can get a bit sweaty anyway.
The building is an interesting angular shape – if it wasn’t next to the scabby bogs then would look quite cool. The lights are part-trendy and the ceiling is almost Scandi but any dreams of wandering through Uppsala are pricked by a Crewe accent asking if anyone has got a radar key.
If you want to open a selection box of assorted weirdos then look no further than the punters sat outside. Elephantine with fags ablaze, lighting-up more often than a stormy Florida sky. Their hair is buzz-cut and their kebabs arms hang Wilkos bags laden with multi-packs of Skips on the handlebars of their mobility scooters. The men were not much better. Inside though a doddering of old biddies and bored mothers avoiding getting soaked or gossiping about the sexual appetites of some woman called Julie. I don’t know who she is but I’d like to bump into her one day. 🙂
Good: Reasonable food and GF options. Friendly staff.
Bad: Punters outside and the latrines.