I have some strange allure towards cafes especially old, skanky, greasy ones. I know why this is, of course, I am from Thanet. I skipped school to eat with my mates in cafes and smoke fags and drink beer on the beach. Coastal kids have different pastimes to land-bound kids, different hobbies.
Anywho, there is a very good website which contains small articles about such cafes and so on. The top one out of the London area (which, of course is always going to be the standard for cafes- Del Boy, Tracy Jacks and all that) was one which I used to work at.
This shocked me.
I used to work in Morellis, Broadstairs and this place is different because it’s one of the only original 1950’s style diners left in the country that have original features. Like the ghastly pink Formica ceiling feature and the soda fountain which was never on. People flocked into our establishment as if if were some kind of Mecca. And, sure, for people with interests such as mine that seems perfectly reasonable. But there is nothing like working somewhere to really really put you off. I won’t go too much into it, it was a long time ago and I like my job now so it all worked out OK in the end. But there is nothing more aggravating than hating something that you should really love. And perhaps if I hadn’t worked there and associated it with all the betrayal, the rowing, the sadness I felt at that time then I might be able to view what a beautiful place it really is.
And that is depressing.
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