Gray day, Grey Street, what better than a little Provencal warmth to liven up the afternoon? And it was handy. I was accompanied on this excursion by the francophone, and unashamedly francophile Polyglot who informed me that the tea we ordered lived up to French standards (go figure).
The bijou cafe is decorated in just the right shade of orange, with upholstered chairs to match, and cushions and a curtain, and a waitress (not in orange but very chic in black and caramel with just a hint of gold in the scarf to set off her complexion, and a pleasant absence of Ugg boots). There are two petite tables and an alarmingly high window seat and a busy view of the Theatre Royal and (at this moment) the Christmas market. P assured me that the music playing was authentic French - someone called Renaud apparently.
To go with the tea I had a spiced muffin which I have to say was the best muffin I have tasted - in fact it was more of a bun texture than muffin and none the worse for that. Polyglot settled for a small blue cheese and leek tartlet which was judged to be good too.
And then came the best bit - eavesdropping! Naturellement, two French people (waitress and customer) could not conceive that two English people (well, one of them) could understand their conversation! Polyglot got most of it, I got a snippet (£70 for a shirt - ridiculous!). And with that we bid them au revoir and slunk off to Blakes (qv) turning the grey afternoon into a cafe crawl.
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