Foyle’s Cafe

A review.

I love bookshops. I love coffee. I love jazz.

Therefore, Foyle’s Cafe, will you marry me?

If Foyle’s wasn’t so big I would literally feel like Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail. But I guess in some ways… I am the opposite: I fell in love with what is essentially a bookstore corporation whereas she fought to defend the little independent stores….if the cafe wasn’t so cozy and cwtchy (Welsh word thrown in to prove I did live there) and I hadn’t been people watching — in between studying my butt off and reading uni materials obviously— I might have reflected a little on this fact and felt a degree of guilt.

But I didn’t, and to be honest, I have been there twice in a week now and I highly doubt guilt would take that long to hit. It’s adorable. The staff are charming and witty and cheeky (in a cute way). They make me want to be in the know, and get to share the joke. I want to be the barrista’s friend.

People watching there was amusing. There was a man sitting on the stage which was hosting various London Jazz Week performers, memorising lines of a script aloud, swooshing his curly mop-head locks for effect every thirty seconds. There was a fairly mismatched looking couple — you know the type: she’s RA-RA, he’s peace & love duuuuude. There was a lot of academics, from the students like us flitting between facebook and online readings, to the regal elder men and women who exude dignity, pipe tobacco and tweed.

And did I mention, this is Foyle’s. London’s most famous, amazing bookstore. I think I got “lost” on the way to the loo, and ended up four chapters deep in a beginners learn-Polish proverbs book. It lacks the musty charm of a truly backstreet nook-and-cranny place, but as far as fun places to hang out or read, this place has made me and R.T. very happy, and we envision an enduring and beautiful relationship, perhaps not without its hiccups (such as the fact we will soon be broke if we keep buying books) but worth it.

Foyles,

113-119 Charing Cross Road,

London, WC2H 0EB