It’s a local place, a proper café. I stopped the van right outside, enjoying the liberties locals take with parking rules. Service is quick, the savoury food is basically Italian: light meals and good. The coffee is average. Cakes unimaginative. Nothing is expensive. It’s friendly, a high open space in a double frontage corner. Probably an old pub now stripped back to the dressed stone. The design is like the last desperate throw of a contestant on an interiors makeover show. I can count at least 4 different kinds of tiles, laminate floor, red brick, back-lit panelling, distressed wood, plastic tables, weird low-level booth seats made of laminated plywood, dark paint, light paint, plastic vines, industrial wall lights… It’s busy. I like it. The best table is in the window corner. Through the lettering on the windows, ‘Lunch!’, ‘Cold Drinks,’ you can see the 3 domes, one coppery-gold, of the Gurdwara. Just over the roof of the early learning centre. There are tables outside, it should be a trendy bar but this part of Pollokshields fortunately continues to resist.
The Sunday clientele are well mixed by age and ethnicity. It’s calm in here, everyone is relaxed. Assorted groups on tables. It feels like anyone could come in and have some peace. Happy young couples are out with sets of parents. Identifiable by familial noses and ears. Young people as yet undented by life. The parents show more mileage. There’s a priest with an older couple, she’s got no hair under a scarf. Something happened. The husband is wearing a poppy.
The cook steps out for a smoke, scrolling down his phone. The waitress is modest, nice to me.
It’s the local café. I like it.
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