Disclaimer – I’m going to try and keep this as short as possible because I can talk about this place for hours and I don’t think anybody here wants to read 60,000 words about a coffee house other than me.

So I’m going to start the story right in front of the coffee house. To the left of us is a gay BDSM lingerie store and to the right a pub.

We are in the trendy Soho area to have coffee. It’s like having coffee in Paris, it is so steeped in history. It may be trendy but there are some things that have persevered and this 150-year-old coffee house is one of them. Thank God it wasn’t a plaque like the Original and All Inspiring Coffee House I tried to cross off.

But Rachael and I are walking along and she can visibly see me getting more and more excited as I walk to this coffee store. I start bouncing up and down like I’ve already had 20 coffees but what she doesn’t know is it’s my ADHD and my excitement building up. I can already smell the coffee as I stand outside getting a photo taken in front of it. I feel like the weirdest tourist in the world but I don’t mind and I don’t care.

Rachael and I open the door and in my eyes, it’s like the opening a chest full of treasures. I get punched in the face with the deep smell of freshly roasted coffee and lattes being made. I’m not gonna lie this place is tiny – it looks like Olivander’s wand shop in Harry Potter. Every inch of the walls are either covered with coffee beans and paraphernalia, or things that you can buy and I love it. I would literally live in this place.

I was going to ask if I could volunteer but I don’t think they would take me, but hey what can you do. Stuff like this makes me happy more so than the Eiffel Tower or Big Ben. Some of these coffee houses and restaurants have been here longer than me and will be here long after I’m gone. It makes me feel like I’m a part of something, or at least that’s what I’m thinking and talking about with Rachael as we stand in this line. Holy shit it’s packed. Eventually, after 10 minutes of waiting, we get to a really bored looking barista and we ask for two cappuccinos, he smiles, makes them and we pay for it in cash money.

After we get our cappuccinos we try and shuffle our way out as if we’re in a rush-hour subway -bumping into people and saying sorry left right and centre, just like a good British or Canadian person. I take one last long look as I open the door, wishing that I could come back, knowing that I might not be able to. We step out and continue our adventure of finding the “seven noses of Soho”, an art piece/treasure hunt.

I sip the coffee and it’s the perfect temperature but as the cold cutting wind is blowing past it cools very quickly. Regardless of that, it’s still absolutely delicious and I cannot complain. I love this coffee house, I love England and I love Rachael.

P.S. Thank you, Rachael, for editing all my posts and my random ADHD connections, you’re more an artist more than me.

Thank you so much for reading, I love you all and I hope you guys get to try a nice coffee or tea today.

I’ll see you soon!