I have been pushing myself rather hard this week, and the week ahead isn’t going to see me slacking off either, so I was glad of an enforced weekend off. It had been my plan to do a bit of work this morning before meeting Mandi in town (she was on board the time-and-a-half train for a few hours) at half past twelve. Although I woke up with her at eight o’clock with good intentions, I fell asleep until just after eleven. This left me with no time to do anything but panic. Without bothering to shower I just pulled on yesterday’s clothes and took Jack to the park for half an hour. I hadn’t bothered taking him out last night as it was raining heavily and neither of us like it. Jack sleeps on our bed and I decided that a wet dog wasn’t the best thing to introduce to a nice clean bed. Once we returned I still had to have a shower and find new clothes, and of course feed Jack and the two cats, then get to town before half past twelve, something told me that this was never going to happen. I sent Mandi a message to meet me at one o’clock to buy me some time; I arrived ten minutes early which is a first.

As part of my quest to find the perfect breakfast we visited Café Hockley on Heathcoat Street. The breakfast choices were ‘Hockley Breakfast’ or ‘Big Breakfast’, assuming that Hockley Breakfast might just be a plate of smug self satisfaction in fashionable trousers pretending to be a creative artist and trying to make a living selling homemade cupcake holders, I opted for the Big Breakfast.

Although a little on the Hockley side it was one of the best breakfasts I have had in town. By ‘on the Hockley side’ I mean the following points; a whole tomato instead of tinned plum tomatoes, a Portobello mushroom (nice but a bit much), and I’m not sure the bacon was fried. Thankfully they weren’t trying to be all cool and trendy so there wasn’t a sprig of parsley on the side or anything daft like that. With bacon, two sausages, beans, hash brown, black pudding, a fried egg and toast, it was a good plateful that set me up for the rest of the day. Tea was included (as it should be), Mandi had a brie and grape sandwich (maybe she should write an accompaniment to my breakfast blogs all about brie and grape sandwiches) and a blood orange juice and the whole lot came to exactly ten pounds. We took our drinks to the outdoor seating area as I don’t like eating outside, which gave me chance to write some comments in my notebook without drawing attention to myself. I have tried drawing attention to myself while writing notes but it has never led to any special treatment so I stopped bothering, (and me a radio personality). There are still plenty of places left to try but Café Hockley is definitely in my list of finalists, especially as the staff were friendly and attentive which is part of the battle.

Sadly it isn’t all glowing reports on cafes today, as once our shopping was over it was time for our Saturday afternoon cappuccino. Wired, the place we visited last Saturday was full to the rafters so we were unable to go there. Instead we went to Hartley’s and I’m sorry to say it will be our final visit as the place has gone downhill fast, joining Lee Rosy’s on the scrapheap. Mandi had an iced coffee and that automatically comes in a plastic cup with a straw. I asked for the biggest cappuccino that doesn’t come in a paper cup (having been given a paper cup on a previous visit) and was shown the size of the biggest ‘proper’ cup. I asked for that size but not that particular cup that the woman took off the top of the machine because it was dirty. To give her credit she did look mortified and took another cup but that was also dirty. Trusting her to find a clean cup somewhere in the building, we ordered and went to sit outside at a dirty table with remnants of the last meal(s) that the table had hosted. Eventually our drinks arrived, and once again I wasn’t given a saucer. No sugar came with the order, so I asked the waitress for four sachets of sugar and she came back with no spoon. When she came back with a spoon I made sure she put it in my hand as I didn’t want it making contact with the table. I quickly downed my lukewarm cappuccino and left in disgust. What had been a really nice place had now given up trying. I could just put it down to a bad day but the last few visits have been just as bad, so now my recommendation of Hartley’s is over. That cow that stands outside can just fuck off.

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