The Stay-at-Home Missionary

28 Feb

It’s not often that I am moved to blog about a sermon I hear at church (though it does occasionally happen). Today we had a visiting speaker, Aaron Elder (who, despite his name, was almost unbearably young), and some of the things he said particularly struck me. That makes it sound as if our regular pastor’s sermons are not striking, which is unfair. They are often excellent, usually challenging, and if they suffer from using the phrase “what would it look like” more often than is warranted by normal use of the English language, well, so do Aaron’s. But maybe I was just ready to hear what Aaron had to say today – or, more accurately, what God had to say through him, because in any really good sermon the mouthpiece fades into the background.

Anyway, Aaron’s sermon was mainly about missionaries, and how we are all supposed to be missionaries. He dropped in some quotes by big hitters (he was almost apologetic by the time he invoked Kierkegaard; I was ready to cheer) and one of them was from Charles Spurgeon:

Every Christian is either a missionary or an imposter.

Of course this is hardly a new concept. I’ve heard any number of times the idea that we can’t all go abroad to be missionaries, but we can and should all spread God’s message of love where we are. I probably have a slightly different angle on this from most people, having been a missionary abroad; when asked what our mental picture of a missionary is (as a precursor to telling us we’re all missionaries), I think about my former friends and colleagues – although I have to admit that this image fights for space with the stereotypical image of a middle-aged woman in sensible clothes and besandaled socks.)

Anyway, when we were all being encouraged to think of where our ‘mission field’ is, I was, not for the first time, thinking “I don’t have any colleagues. I don’t have many friends, and many of the ones I do have are overseas.  I see my neighbours rarely. I don’t have a mission field.” Most people have to deal with a lot of people every day, whether they want to or not, but my work is just me and a computer, and that’s the way I like it. Even when I’m interpreting Albanian, I’m only supposed to be a human version of Google Translate (albeit a more accurate one); I’m not allowed to interject my own thoughts, any more than a Babel fish does.

However, while I indulged in this none-too-positive thinking, God* suddenly drew my attention to the fact that in a few weeks I’ll be speaking to over 200 people about St Patrick. In the week of St Patrick’s Day I’m visiting a school, talking to the whole of S1. Then I’m giving a talk on “Who was the real St Patrick?” at Govanhill Neighbourhood Centre the same week, on Friday 18th March. Neither of these talks are going to be evangelistic – I’m not luring people in and then preaching hellfire and damnation. But I will be speaking about another missionary, good old Pat, and mentioning why he went off to serve the Irish – which was of course because of his belief in God, and that God had sent him.** So while I may not have colleagues, or even many friends (don’t shed any tears, I do have some, and they are lovely!), I have a remarkably privileged opportunity that most people don’t get. Of course, I’ve also got my books, read even by people I’ve never met (so I’m told), so there’s a lovely, arm’s-length mission field – a Christian introvert‘s dream 😉

Where am I going with this? Nowhere really, except to observe that sometimes things can become new and fresh even when we’ve heard them a hundred time, and that perhaps even I have a mission field, even if it is limited in time, or extended in virtual distance.

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*How do I know / why do I think it was God? It’s hard to be 100% sure when it comes to divine communications, but they do happen (if you’re a Christian), and they come in a number of different forms, from the unsettlingly supernatural to the surprisingly mundane. In this case, while mundane, the subject came to my mind unbidden, and in a completely different light from how I had seen it before, while I was in a prayerful, open attitude. That doesn’t prove anything, but I just thought I would explain since “God spoke to me” can be a rather confusing and ambiguous statement for the uninitiated.

** In his case it was a vivid dream in which he received a letter from the Irish – a little closer to the supernatural end of the scale.

Why Geneva was a Claude-free zone

17 Feb

Apologies for the lifeless nature of my blog recently. I could blame it on the weather, since the various storms seem to have disrupted everything else, but you probably wouldn’t believe that. The truth is I’ve just been too busy to even think up any pearls of wisdom, let alone write them down. I hope you are coping without them 😉

Anyway, there are a couple of pieces of news I ought to share:

  1. My article on John Calvin is out now in (Premier) Christianity magazine. Find out why it was a crime to call your child Claude in Calvin’s Geneva, and what predestination has to do with the birth of western capitalism, and all in under ten minutes. You can get Christianity magazine in Christian bookshops, online, and probably in larger newsagents. There’s also a readers’ survey in this edition, so if you’ve been enjoying the Ten-Minute Guide series (which I have written a few of), please vote for it as one of your favourites!
    Christianity-Magazine-March-2016-cover_cover_image
  2. I’ll be appearing at the Glasgow St Patrick’s Festival (yes, we do have one) on Friday 18th March at 7pm in the Govanhill Neighbourhood Centre. I’m talking about who St Patrick actually was, what he did, and how we know. Very ancient historian-y. Perhaps I should dig out my old university gown…? The talk is free, so just turn up on the night.

Hopefully I’ll find the time to write a new blog post at some point in the next month, but if not, you could try reading something I prepared earlier. With two biographies, one novel and several short stories, you should manage to find something to keep you going!

On the Nth Day of Christmas

4 Jan

Happy New Year!

WordPress very kindly made a review of my blogging year and invited me to share it with you. However, on the assumption that a list of statistics about my blog is probably more interesting to me than to you, I’ll instead share a wee bit of poetry taken from the start of my short story collection A New Year’s Trio (available on Smashwords Amazon etc.). This is extremely rare, since I write poetry only once or twice a decade. I hope you enjoy it, but if you don’t, at least I won’t be troubling you with any more poetry for a while. 😉

On the Nth Day of Christmas

That dayless week between Christmas and New Year

When it’s all over and it hasn’t started.

Finding space for new presents and new life,

Three leaving the stable that two had entered.

A pause, a plateau, an intake of breath,

Ready for the wheel to turn again.

 

Forgiving the unforgiveable

17 Nov

My new book on Patrick of Ireland is subtitled The Boy Who Forgave because what struck me most when I was researching his story was that Patrick was prepared to go back to the country where he had been trafficked and enslaved, not reluctantly or under compulsion, but with a heart full of compassion for the Irish.

The atrocities in Beirut and especially Paris have been all over the news and social media since Friday, and although the situation is not the same (the Irish raiders who carried Patrick off were no ISIS), I can’t help wondering how people would react if someone who had lost loved ones in the terrorist attacks then devoted most of their adult life to serving and spreading the word of God in the land the attackers came from. I expect that there would be some ready to question their motives, or their sanity. Our society tends to see forgiveness as weakness, but on the contrary, I think it takes immense strength, especially when it flies in the face of public opinion.

Patrick front cover

Anyway, all of that is just a prelude to saying that Patrick of Ireland: The Boy Who Forgave is now available in bookshops and online in Britain (you’ll have to wait a little longer in the USA) and tells a moving and thought-provoking story about a truly inspiring man whose life was anything but straightforward. Kidnap, shipwreck, near-starvation and attempted poisoning were just some of the things poor old Pat had to put up with, but his trust in God was unshakeable.

This is the stripped-back story of Patrick, relying on the most secure evidence and missing out the legendary bits that got added on much later. No snakes, shamrocks or breastplates, I’m afraid, but plenty of kings with unpronounceable names, druids, and high adventure.

Book launch

If you will be in Glasgow on Saturday 5th December, you are warmly invited to the book launch for Patrick of Ireland at 2pm in the private room of O’Neills Irish pub, Sauchiehall Street (right at the end of the street, almost at the motorway). If not, please do buy it from your local bookshop, buy online, or suggest to your local library that they get it in.

Kaleidoscope Anthology Published

12 Oct


Writers Abroad has just published their latest anthology, Kaleidoscope, to mark the International Year of Light. It features my fun little piece of flash fiction, ‘Lux Italiana‘ (Italian Light), and while I’m not going to pretend that half a page from me is worth the £5.99 cover price, there is also lots of other good fiction, non-fiction and poetry from various ex-pat and ex-ex-pat writers, and all profits go to the charity Room to Read, which promotes literacy in the developing world.

Kaleidoscope is available on Amazon and Lulu, and as today (12th October) is the launch day, there is also a Facebook event from 10am to 6pm with regular competitions and prizes, so pop over and have a look. And then buy the book, of course – if not for yourself, then as a (whisper it) Christmas present for any ex-pats or ex-ex-pats who are on your nice list.

The Great British Turn Off

31 Aug

I understand that the 2015 series of the ever-popular Great British Bake Off is now underway. Or will be shortly. Or was recently. I’m not exactly sure of the details because I have never been the least bit tempted to watch it. That’s not because I don’t like baking. In fact, I love baking and am well known amongst my circle of acquaintances for my excellent cakes and biscuits. I do so much baking that my little niece thinks “recipe” means “a book that tells you all the things what you need in a cake”. So why do I dislike the Bake Off?

Until recently, I explained that to myself and others by saying that it was the competitive element that put me off. Baking isn’t supposed to be a competitive sport, it’s an enjoyable pastime. When lots of people bring baked goods along to an event, the fun is in trying and enjoying all of them, not in declaring one the winner and rejecting the others. But that doesn’t really explain it. I mean, I don’t object to the kind of baking competitions where you make the goodies at home and then take them along to be judged. I’ve even entered competitions like that in the past before, and written a heart-warming, tear-jerking and fairly well-remunerated short story for a woman’s magazine on the subject.

I could say it’s the stupidity of baking in a tent. (You need a constant supply of water and electricity, and no wind blowing your icing sugar around so let’s hold it – in a tent! Ideal!) Or I could object to the hosts or judges. But actually my problem with it clicked when I read an article on introversion and it mentioned baking as an activity introverts can use to recharge. That’s it! Baking is a solitary, peaceful activity. If you make it into a big public thing, with everyone shouting and making noise and peering over your shoulder, it becomes a trial to endure, not a source of relaxation. My objection to The Great British Bake Off, it seems, is that I’m an introvert.

(As an aside, it’s also a slight quibble I have with the Macmillan World’s Biggest Coffee Morning. It’s an excellent cause, but I have to disagree with their statement that “cake tastes better together”. Cake most definitely tastes better alone.)

It’s normal for writers to be introverts – lots of deep thoughts, internal monologue and spending time alone with computers, paper, pens and books. (I love stationery – not sure if that’s connected.) But it’s not always easy to tell who’s an introvert and who isn’t, unless you know them well. I can be quite the social butterfly, in fact, meeting new people, remembering their names and making amusing small talk, but I couldn’t do it all day. In fact, if I spend all day with large groups of people, even people I like, I will be ready to burst into tears about nothing at all by the evening. I need time by myself to chill and recover, doing things like reading, watching TV, and baking.

The article that mentioned baking has a great explanation of introversion described in terms of mobile phone batteries. The basic gist is that it’s not that introverts can’t do outgoing, social things, it’s just that it drains the batteries, which then need to be recharged. It’s a good article and I would recommend it. I would also recommend that you try my baking if you ever get the chance, and read my writing (naturally). But don’t stand over my shoulder while I’m doing it, giving me marks out of ten. This is not the Great British Bake Off.

Introverts Unite

Join the elite

15 Aug

As some of you may already know, I have just launched a mailing list. I haven’t actually sent any mail to it yet – let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The purpose of the list is to keep people up to date with my writing news – when a new book becomes available, for instance.

If you already follow the blog, this is not the same as new post notifications, and is likely to be even less frequent than those. Your data will be held securely (I trust) by Mailchimp and you can unsubscribe at any time. It is at the moment a tiny list, so you could consider yourself part of an exclusive club, if that gives you pleasure.

So if you are not just a casual reader of the blog but would actually like to know when there is some new piece of writing by me available in the world, please do go ahead and sign up below, or using the link in the sidebar. Invite your friends to sign up, if you like. Invite your family. But don’t invite your pets – they’re probably not big readers.

Sign up here

Albania 2015 – just the best bits

8 Aug

I have recently returned from my other reality, aka Albania, where I have a different name, a different language, different clothes (well it is 20 degrees hotter) and to some extent a different personality. I was going to blog about how strange it is to suddenly be bad at things that you are usually good at – things like baking, dancing and writing, in my case – because you’re in a different culture where all the rules are changed.

However, I feel like I have encountered quite enough negativity recently, with people talking down Albania, or Scotland, or just generally moaning about how hard life is, so I don’t want to add to it. However hard life is, and whatever problems there are in both my countries, I had a fantastic month, so I will choose the share the best parts. If that makes you nauseous, look away now.

1. I went to a museum in Lushnjë where I was the only person there, so I got a personal guided tour, and unlike most museums where you are told very firmly not to touch, this museum positively encourages you to! I was handed a two-and-a-half-thousand-year-old perfume pot (which I took extreme care not to drop) as if it were just a mug of coffee, and the tour guide passed me an 18th century sword to hold while he took a phone call. For a history nut like me, it was amazing!

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Look at the colour of that sea!

2. The sea was beautiful, and so different from the North Sea and the Atlantic that I grew up with. It’s so clear you can see the tiny fish, and it’s warm (or no colder than cool, at worst) so you can get right in there without fear of losing a toe to frostbite. My eyes are the colour of the sea and, bizarrely, while they are North Sea blue-grey here in Scotland, they were Mediterranean blue-green the entire time I was in Albania.

3. Being outdoors so much was great. I like being outdoors in Scotland, too, but there are not that many days you can do it without suffering from mild exposure, if not from the temperature then from the wind. In Albania (and Greece) we ate outside (breakfast, lunch and supper), socialised outside, went to outdoor bars, and I even slept outside, on the balcony outside my room, when the temperature got a bit too ridiculous. Waking up to blue sky and swallows overhead sets you up for a great day.

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My bed on the balcony

4. My husband gets irritated by this one, but I love being mistaken for an Albanian! I talk with an accent of course, but millions of Albanians live abroad, so they pick up accents too. Sometimes people have a little debate in front of me about whether I’m foreign or not! It’s very funny, and quite reassuring when I have an Albanian exam coming up later this year.

5. I enjoyed bonding with my mother-in-law over telenovele, the überdramatic soap operas they show in Albania. They used to be mainly from South America, but now there’s a glut of Turkish ones, which are a bit more serious, and very good. The latest was Diamantë dhe Dashuri (Diamonds and Love). There’s lots of mortal peril and complicated love triangles / hexagons, and I am happy to throw myself right in there for as long as I’m staying. They also don’t go on forever, like British soap operas, so you’re not in danger of losing your whole life to them.

6. I also enjoyed dressing up. This can be a hassle if you’re not in the right mood, but I was on holiday so I was very happy to only take my prettiest clothes, and then to wear all the new pretty clothes that my mother-in-law had collected for me too. Most of the time in Britain I slob around in jeans and a t-shirt, so it’s fun to take a break from that and wear heels and dresses. I didn’t wear trousers for the entire holiday, and it was with great reluctance that I put them back on for the flight home.

7. The ice cream was so cheap! Lots of things are cheaper in Albania, but ice cream is so expensive here in Britain that it’s really noticeable. In Albania it ranged from about 30p for a cheap one to £1.30 for an individual tub of Skandal, the equivalent of Häagen Dazs. My young nieces, who accompanied me for the first part of the holiday, weren’t used to the heat so I insisted that we stabilised their temperature with regular applications of ice cream. They didn’t seem to mind.

8. Catching up with friends was a highlight – and not just friends in Albania, but those in Greece and Italy too! Because almost everyone in Albania has relatives abroad, standard mobile phone packages include overseas minutes. For about £8 for the whole month I got hundreds of minutes to Europe, as well as huge amounts of data and messages. Not bad.

9. This one is from Greece rather than Albania. I stayed in a hotel with a pool on my way back, since I had to spend a night in Corfu. (It was the Anita, in case you’re interested, and it’s very good and extremely friendly, though not as handy for the airport as the Arion.) One of my favourite memories is standing up to my neck in the pool, alone, watching brightly coloured dragonflies playing over the water. Idyllic.

Sunny enough for bananas!

Sunny enough for bananas!

10. Sunshine. Sorry, but it has to be said. In Scotland we throw ourselves onto the nearest patch of grass whenever the sun comes out, because who knows how long it will last? In Albania you can predict that it will last roughly from the start of May to the end of September. It was sunny every day, it was hot every day, it was cloudless all but two days. It was paradise.

My mother-in-law will hopefully be visiting in October, her first time in Scotland, so it will be interesting to get her perspective. Maybe she will see wonderful things that I don’t notice because I’m so used to them. I have a nasty feeling that she won’t like it at all, actually, but until she casts her verdict – let’s stay positive. 🙂

The Ten Minute Guide to Augustine

22 Jun

If you pick up a copy of the July edition of Premier Christianity Magazine, and flick towards the back, you will find my ten-minute guide to St Augustine, entitled “The Restless Heart“. With a book (currently on offer at three for a tenner at 10ofthose.com) and an article on Augustine, I now appear to be a world authority 😉

Christianity Magazine is usually a good read, even when it doesn’t feature my wonderful work, and I would recommend it. Below is a graphic from their article on Christian jargon, also in the July edition. It made me laugh, and I hope it does you, too.

jargon

Coffee Quest

26 May

coffee quest

I have just completed a small but quite satisfying quest, which took me all over Glasgow. A month or two ago I was having coffee with a friend in the Glad Cafe, near where I live on the south side of Glasgow, and I saw some little loyalty cards. Never one to pass up the chance of something free, I picked one up and discovered that it wasn’t for the Glad Cafe itself, but for ten different independent coffee shops, all of which use Dear Green coffee, roasted in Glasgow.

People who succeed in collecting stamps from all ten are entitled to claim a free coffee at any of the cafes on the list, but it would clearly involve a lot of effort. At this point I suppose people either shrug and put the card back, or decide to go for it. I chose to take up the challenge, and my not particularly hazardous quest was born. I discovered some gems, had some less positive experiences, and drank a lot of curdled soya milk. Here are my impressions in order of visit:

Glad Cafe

Where it all started, and a place I’m very familiar with. Situated on Pollokshaws Road, opposite Queens Park, ‘The Glad’ serves decent coffee and great cake, but the service is sometimes slow. It’s a bit of an arts and music venue on the side, and rather “right on”, but not too aggressively. I like it, and often pop in just to get a loaf of the gorgeous Crossmyloof bread to take away. This is actually the most far-flung of all the cafes on the list, from the city centre at least, so it was handy that it’s one of my locals.

Laboratorio Espresso

A wee gem hidden away on West Nile Street, behind Forever 21. It is very Italian in the best way. It reminded me a little of the coffee shop where my Italian niece works, where men drop by in the morning to have their espresso in two gulps before going to work. I had an espresso and it was perfect, not bitter at all. There were little Italian snacklets to buy, just the right size to accompany an espresso, and newspapers lying about to read. My favourite of the new cafes I tried, and the one I now keep recommending to people.

Avenue G

In the west end to do some research at Glasgow University library, and just a little too hungry to wait for lunch, I took the opportunity to tick another coffee shop off my list. I had an americano (I think – I didn’t take notes) and a slice of carrot cake that came with a deliciously boozy chocolate sauce. The place was stuffed but I was pointed to a seat on their tiny balcony. It’s easy to see why it’s so popular. The coffee was good, the cake was good, the service was too, and the place smelt of bacon and chocolate – a wonderful brunch time aroma. I was at the branch on Byres Road, but they also have one on Great Western Road.

Papercup

It was at this point that I started making an effort to work through the list instead of just relying on happenstance, which could take a lifetime. I arranged with my friend Ann to take a trip to the West End on what turned out to be a horrific day of weather. Papercup is on Great Western Road, not too far from Kelvinbridge underground. It is very far from Gartnavel, where we ended up walking to afterwards, but that’s another story. Papercup wasn’t really worth the effort, I’m afraid. The stripped back look has been taken so far that you would think the place was derelict if there hadn’t been staff at the counter. They had some nice little cakes and colourful macaroons, but the coffee was only ok, and I think this was one of the places where the soya milk curdled, making the coffee taste black when I take it white. I don’t think I’ll be back.

Tapa

Anyone who has scrolled down will realise that there are 11 coffee shops on this list, not ten, and this relates to the scribbled out entry on the loyalty card. I got it into my head that Riverhill Coffee Bar was directly opposite Central Station, and when I didn’t see it there, assumed it had closed. In fact it’s a block further along Gordon Street, and has been open all the time, but labouring under this misapprehension, and sad that I wouldn’t be able to complete my card, I decided to substitute another independent coffee shop I been meaning to go to.

I have often passed Tapa on the bus and seen its claim to have “the best coffee on Glasgow by a country mile” so one pleasant day I walked down beyond Queens Park to try it out. The claim is a bit exaggerated, but the coffee was good, and there was a wide choice. I had a cafetiere of something interesting and wondered why I had never been before. It’s not that far from where I live.

Riverhill Coffee Bar

Of course, immediately after scoring it off the list, I discovered the real location of Riverhill. In need of a quick coffee, I popped in and discovered that at least one of my friends already knew about it, since he was sitting on one of the few available chairs. (This is a bit of a theme with the independent cafes – not much seating at all.) I had an espresso and a nice crackly biscuit, but nearly got charged for something completely different by the friendly guy on the till. Paying when you order might be safer. The coffee and biscuit were good, but I did feel a little cramped, and certainly couldn’t have done much work on my laptop there. Even so, I’m glad it’s not really closed.

McCune Smith

Off to the east end for the next one, with a friend who lives round the corner from this cafe but had never been. Another horrible day, raining sideways, but it was good to go back to my old stomping ground and see how much the High Street area has been improved. There was some great graffiti art covering the whole sides of buildings, and I would have taken some pictures, but I wanted to get out of the rain.

McCune Smith is a strange place, like a cross between an eighteenth century coffee house and the tenement flat of someone you don’t know very well. A trip to the toilet involved going through an unmarked door and then choosing between a further three unmarked doors. It also charges west end prices in an east end location, which was a surprise, and shows how much the area is going up. The coffee was good (though the soya milk curdled) and there was a good choice on the menu. The staff were extremely helpful, even swiping my Swiipi card for me, repeatedly, when it wouldn’t work.

Dr James McCune Smith, by the way, was the first black man to study medicine at the University of Glasgow, back when it used to be located near High Street, so I learnt something while I was there.

Siempre Bicycle Cafe

The low point of my quest. I’m glad I didn’t make a special trip to this cafe on Dumbarton Road, because it would have added to my annoyance. Instead, I just popped in on my way to a friend’s house, and ordered an espresso – but didn’t drink it. It was that bad. I took two sips, and the second was only to confirm that it really was as bad as all that. All the seating was at long benches, which isn’t great if you’re not feeling sociable, and the place is covered in bikes, bits of bikes, and books about bikes. I don’t like bikes (nasty accident as a child) and I don’t like bad coffee. I won’t be back.

Artisan Roast

image

The end was in sight now, so I arranged with a west end friend to try out this cool student dive on Gibson Street. (There was cool graffiti on the way once again, and this time I did stop to take a photo.) The ambience was great, with quirky tables and nice little nooks, and cushions made out of coffee sacks. In fact, all the coffee-related stuff made me think I might be in for a treat. I asked for a recommendation, took it, and didn’t baulk at the somewhat elevated price. However, the service was very slow (my friend had to chase hers up and still didn’t get it for a good 15 minutes) and the coffee, when it came, was rather bitter and served in a glass jug. Maybe that fits nicely with the quirkiness, but it’s a terrible way to serve coffee. Cafetiere to cold jug, jug to cold cup, and my coffee was tepid before I even started it, and stone cold long before the end. Cool coffee is not cool, Artisan Roast – not in my book, anyway.

All That Is Coffee

Another dud , I’m afraid. This cafe is in the achingly hip bit of central Glasgow behind Argyle Street, where if you throw a music technician he’ll probably hit a graphic design studio. It is based in a…something. I couldn’t really tell what it was or did, even after bypassing security and wandering round the building in search of the toilet. The building plan was full of cool and ironic non-literal descriptions, so that was no help. My best guess is that it’s some kind of design college, but who knows? It’s that kind of area, even the shops won’t say what they’re selling. If you have to ask, you’re not hip enough.

Normally I would feel very out of place, but in fact I had just bought new, bright blue over-ear headphones so I put them on like armour and listened to OMD – unironically.

As for the coffee, it was OK, but when I asked for a recommendation the woman looked at me as if I was mad and said, “I don’t know how you like your coffee.” Not confidence-inspiring. I had had enough of curdled soya milk, and it was 40p extra anyway (Really ? These days?) so I helped myself from the communal milk jug, examined the design work (Earrings the size of golf balls, made of unworked ores. Why?), listened to my music and got out of there, retreating to the cool-but-not-confusing Parnie Street by way of Mr Ben’s vintage clothing shop.

Veldt Deli

Last one! And a good one. Ann, who should get at least half a free coffee for her efforts, came with me again to Great Western Road, this time the other side of Kelvinbridge, to try out this South African themed cafe. The decor is stripped back but not excessively, and although there was one big bench, there were also a couple of tables. There was South African food on the menu and on the shelves to take home. I had an unpronounceable type of pasty and a lovely coconut and vanilla cake. The coffee was good, the soya only very slightly uncooperative, and the prices were reasonable too.

I don’t know if I’m the only one who has ever finished this coffee quest, but there some confusion at Veldt about the free coffee, whether it was the tenth one or the one after the tenth. The wording on the card seemed to imply the latter so I chose to return to my favourite for another espresso at the Laboratorio. It was very strong, but still good, and there was just room to squeeze in me and my multi-lingual friends for a confusing conversation about comparative grammar. ‘Cause that’s just how I roll.

So if you’re looking for a new coffee shop, here they are in order from best to worst. But don’t take my word for it, pick up a card and go questing yourself.

  1. Laboratorio Espresso
  2. Avenue G
  3. Glad Cafe
  4. Riverhill
  5. Tapa
  6. McCune Smith
  7. Veldt Deli
  8. Papercup
  9. Artisan Roast
  10. All That Is Coffee
  11. Siempre Bicycle Cafe