Scrumpy Willow and Singing Kettle, Clayton Street

Had to make this a flying lunch hour visit due to changes in the working week, but think I managed to do it justice.  It's bang next door to the Clayton Street Kitchen but completely different in every way.  Anyone from south Devon wandering through the door could be forgiven for thinking they had been transported back to Totnes!  Can't think of anywhere else in Newcastle that would have Resurgence magazine on display. 
I ordered by coffee and scone, remembering in time to have butter not cream with it (the North East has many and varied delights but proper clotted cream is not among them), and took my seat in the small street level seating area.  The table wobbled like mad but the waitress was very helpful in wedging it with wadges of paper.  Maybe I should say at this point, that this small area is the only flat bit of the establishment.  The toilets are down a steep flight of stairs and there is another flight up to what I assume is a further seating area.  During my visit, a couple tried and failed to get a buggy though the door (had staff been on hand I'm sure the other side of the double door could have been opened).  So, the place may not be DDA compliant but it has got atmosphere - elderly standard lamp in corner, fantastic Indian wooden screen concealing the fridge, cheese plant and peace lilies in the window, interesting cushions on the chairs, interesting choice of music (think I heard Van the Man at one point).
And an interesting mix of clientele too.  In the window, a couple in their 40s I guess.  She wearing the type of Breton striped top that the Times magazine declared 'on trend' only last week.  He casually but not cheaply dressed.  I imagine a place in Northumberland with wood burning stoves, eco gadgets galore and some kind of expensive electric car.  Middle table was vacant when I arrived but soon occupied by a man in a farmery type of tweed jacket, old fogey style but not that old.  He clocked the waitress straight away and wasted no time in chatting her up as he waited for his kedgeree and tea.  Kedgeree!  Talk about a throwback to the days of the raj!
So, the coffee was fine, the scone and butter was fine too, the apparently homemade raspberry jam served with it was so good that I used the whole lot, but the best of all, the taste to beat all tastes, was the organic peppermint cream that I bought on a whim as I paid.  It was large, sweet and so subtly pepperminty and so unlike anything mass produced that I walked on air all the way back to work.