Crossing the threshold between the street and a coffee shop should be a magical experience. It used to be. As little as ten years ago, even Starbucks and Costa had that home from home feel. In one step you would move from honking cars, the dull thrum of the street beat and the thick, oily smell of petroleum fumes into a cave of mystery, with low lights, big potted plants, dark leather chairs that “whoomph” when you sit in them, oh-my-God-coffee scents, and there was always good music; often so good, I would have to ask. That’s how I discovered “The Weeks”, now a firm favourite on my playlist.
Martyn Winters: Author, Composer, Musician