Lily’s is a spacious and warm escape from the dreich February winter climate of Fife and is surrounded by ample free parking. I was going to say that inside one can escape the all-pervasive golf focus emanating from St. Andrews. But one can’t. Outside, the Ladies Lundin Links is across the road. Inside, hyper-real golf art is dominating one wall.
I am not a Picky Art Critic in a Van (why not? you cry. You give us your opinion on everything else whether we want it or not) and my brief does not cover Art. As yet. I would suggest at this point that Picky Man in a Van with his sidekick Grayson Perry would be an amazing travel show. But I already have a sidekick. And she brushes up remarkably well. Just like Grayson.
Suffice to say the picture shouting from the wall inside Lily’s has square corners, is in a frame and is big. And golfy. Very Golfy.
Otherwise, Lily’s is a sort of half-modern café, half child-friendly retreat for tired midget-wranglers. Said children had already swigged their juice, gnawed their apples and chucked a lot of their sandwiches, artworks and crisps on the floor with the joyous disregard of toddlers. Safe in the knowledge that their kind Mummies would deal with everything. Which they did. The customers are otherwise some pleasant Nannas, who might also be lady Golfers.
The interior of Lily’s is spacious and decorated with slow-paced café colours; the ubiquitous forest green and contrasting cream tones. There are bits of panelling, shelving, games, assorted benches and unremarkable tables and chairs. The chairs are adorned with assorted seat cushions with enlivening patches added for good measure. Grayson would chip in knowledgeably at this bit. Possibly do a workshop?
Lily’s has plenty of space and just the right amount of café clutter and personal touches to relax one. It’s a calming spot, despite the native rogue toddlers and the fine practice of crisps being served with all the sandwiches.
Comestible-wise my pastrami sandwich was most acceptable but I must relate that the coffee was not. Too hot, too mediocre tasting, too generic. It was just…too brown. I have run low on coffee superlatives. Reader, I didn’t even finish it. A damming verdict indeed. £11.60 for the pair.
As the rain drummed down I countered my coffee disappointment by reflecting with Proustian anthropology on life with small children. These creatures do not give one a moment’s peace. Every wriggle in a sock, attempt at basic physical hygiene being practiced upon them or vegetable touching a fish-finger on their plates may bring forth some sort of meltdown or ultraviolence. But when they have grown older and more civilised the mundane moments of life that they used to enliven with such joy and fresh perspective seem rather boring.
My own father dealt with this conundrum differently. We small children were allowed to play with other dogs, even look after them, but we were not allowed our greatest desire, our own dog. I overheard him justifying this to my mother, ‘I just want to be able to give them back when I’ve had enough of them’, he said.
I thought he meant the dog.
Lily’s is not for the coffee connoisseur. But Lily’s is for you if you would like a some peace, a nice sarnie and crisps, which you can chuck about if your little beasts are all grown up.
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