Clubland

Something occurred to me recently. The peaceful, gentle café of yesteryear has died a death; well it has in Metropolitan Australia. Maybe it never actually existed here.
When I lived in England I was much more fond of sitting in a ‘greasy spoon’ café than whittling away my time in a pub. Picture me flicking through the papers whilst nursing a large mug of strong tea and picking my way through a fruit scone or demolishing a decent bacon sandwich.
(You cannot get a decent bacon sandwich anymore! White bread, butter, crispy bacon – HP sauce optional – it’s not that hard. These days it is all ‘bacon and avocado on rye’ – give me a break!)
The ‘greasy spoon’ as it’s commonly known, is not as vile as the name implies. This breed of café has its own charm and ambiance. Sure, there is something rather geeky and retro about the tomato-shaped sauce bottles and the gingham curtains whose length can only cover the lower half of the window, but it’s a style I seem only able to reminisce about.
If music was to permeate the air, it would have been something faint and melodious from an old radio balanced on a rickety shelf behind the counter next to an old biscuit tin and a porcelain figurine. The cable would stretch precariously down to the plug socket but invariably remain intact for the duration of its life.
These days, every café has to be ‘funky’ and blast music of jaunty tempos and pumping rhythms into acoustics worthy of Sydney Opera House. (“Pump up the jam?” “No thank you, just some marmalade and a knife, thanks!”) One can barely hear oneself think as one tries to do the quiz in the back of the local paper. Even as you cradle your beverage, the frenetic energy surrounding the venue bullies you into a scalding swallow and enforced ejection as it appears no one wants you to stay longer than ten minutes.
If I wanted to have to shout at my friends and those who are there to serve me, I’d hang out in a nightclub!
Yes, I know I sound like an old man, but I am sure I am not alone. We live life so fast these days and there is little room to take a break and relax without feeling the burdening pressure of capitalist notions and speedy delivery. Angst is thrust upon us in our daily lives through work and through the media; we don’t need it injected into our coffee breaks too.
So, bring back the old cafés, ditch the loud music and let’s enjoy the slower aspects of life before we all die.

N.B. It’s pronounced ‘Scone’ as in ‘Cone’. It’s only ‘Scon’ when there’s none left.