Went in a cafe of the wrong class today. [sad face]

[TiggyD]

There were 2 cafes near each other. I picked the wrong one. I'm lower middle class and the cafe was for middle middle class to about lower upper class. I should have guessed by the little accent they put over the 'e' in the name.

I went in and up to the counter and asked for a sausage roll and a hot chocolate and they didn't give it to me. I was told to go sit at a table. My sausage roll came served on a plate with salad which, and you might not believe this, somebody had drizzled on! I'm guessing it was basil oil or some such frippery, although the cafe with an accent was next to a boating lake the same colour.

I should have gone to the other one where I'm sure I could have just taken the sausage roll in a bag or on a paper plate without being drizzled at.

It's hard being English.

Pot pourri is right up there with M&S Eternal Beau crockery, wallpaper borders and scatter cushions, for early 90s nastiness...

I went to the wrong café. Ordered poached eggs on toast for my 7 year old. They came with chilli flakes on. FFS.

I like going in to Starbuck's/Costa/any other chain of purveyors of coffee and ask for 'a coffee', then stand back and see what happens.
Oh, the confusion, the glorious confusion!

The best coffee is the one that used to be made in the staff room of a hospital ward in Germany where I trained. Filter coffee machine was always on, whoever took the last cup of coffee made another pot that was left on the hotplate for everybody to help themselves. A teaspoon would stand up all by itself in what was left in that pot near the end, but it was gloriously bitter and sweat and aromatic and an absolute godsend at 5am or the middle of a fraught shift or the end of a traumatic one at handover time.

Oh this thread has reminded me of a friend I made when the dc were small. She rang me one day and hissed "Quick - wtf is a gougon? Do I say 'yes please' or tell him to fuck off?"

She later told me she'd been on a date with a well fit bloke but she didn't understand half the things he said to her.

Pot pourri is right up there with M&S Eternal Beau crockery, wallpaper borders and scatter cushions, for early 90s nastiness...

especially if, as happened when FIL first visited us as newlyweds (mid 80s), you mistake the bowl of pot pourri for nibbles.

I live in an up and coming area

Our greggs closed to become a hipster hairdresser than sells £40 bottles of shampoo (normal size, not catering packs) and the only place to buy a sausage roll is the sourdough bakery which has men in skinny jeans queuing around the corner, thus rendering it utterly useless for those 'I'm dying of a hangover and have 4 minutes to get grease, stodge and pork in my mouth before I collapse' moments

We do have a lovely Italian cafe, and I took my friend there for breakfast when she was visiting from the north
We both ordered a sausage sandwich. It arrived.
It was a tolouse-style sausage, in a flatbread, filled with salad and halved cherry tomatoes
She took a photo and put it on Facebook with a caption like 'this is what passes for a sausage sandwich in London'

From the outraged comments she got, you'd have thought she posted a video of someone playing football with a puppy

I once went into a very posh cafe and immediately knew I'd made a mistake. My jacket potato came with blueberries and butter in a little churn.

I'll take my greasy spoon with builders tea and bacon butties, thank you very much.

Really, usual? Me and my sister have just chucked a load of Eternal Beau crockery, that belonged to our Mum and Dad. Bollocks.

I like a holiday in lovely Pembrokeshire of Wales. It's glorious. Except for the time we strayed into North Pembs accidentally.
We fell into a pub at Sunday lunchtime in flip flops and shorts, the kids still covered in sand.
We were taken to a table with a white tablecloth. We were at this point committed to feeding our ravenous feral children.
They charged us £20 for our 4 year old's lunch of which she ate half a organic handmade seeded bread roll.
We have not ventured North since and have had some excellent Tenby fish and chips today.
We know our place.

My nana used to pronounce Pot Pourri as "Pott Pure-ee"

I just bought 2 bags from M & S

I am going to take the kids to the park tomorrow, via Greggs for a no-effort picnic

That is how you pronounce it.

fool

My local pub now serves "modern inventive dishes and on-point drinks". Bastards, the lot of them. I just want scampi and gin.

Ah Sister, you strayed into Narbeth, I guess?

Fecci's in Tenby do the best fish and chips ever

Oh no! I've been saying it wrong all this time...

It's not pow pour-ee it's pott pure-ee

World class chips in Tenby, Meredith. Why did you stray further?!

Could this go in classics please?

Southwold's the place to go for top-notch Up Its Own Arse Wankiness. I seethe and rant, but yet keep going back for more.

I've been traumatised since being served fish and child on a lump of slate.

I think we wouldALL be traumatised by that!

Tiggy greggs is definitely working class all the way. If you are any rank of middle class you have to wear a big hat and several scarves to conceal your identity when going in. You must then breeze in with a child (this is important as you can't possibly buy anything for yourself) muttering "how quaint darling if you absolutely insist I will get you one of those sausage rolls I've heard about" you get bonus middle class points for trying to find a menu and commenting on the fact that all the staff total your bill in their heads as you order.

Pacific, my fil comes over very peculiar when faced with the coffee choices on a board. He goes through the 7 stages of...
Confusion (when I suggest a flat white), Fear (when I suggest a flat white)
Anger (when I explain what a flat white is)
Denial (I'll have a bloody tea if it's easier)
Defeat (...oh there are 23 types of tea)
Acceptance (oh just get me whatever you think is best)
Relief (when he realises that a flat white is just a coffee)

I say po puh-ree
I'm middle class (I think)

Oh christ . I think DP and I may have inadvertently become aging hipsters. We escaped to our local (bit rough) pub one Saturday lunch time recently. DP went to the bar and caused a scene by asking for a bottle of white wine. All I could hear was him shouting was 'No.No.No. Not that. We want a bottle of New Zealand Sauv Blanc'. Or is that tacky now and we're OK?

I found the fish and chips in Tenby to be shit. The first place I went to I had some food in a polystyrene tray. The chips were horrible and grainy inside and my sausage fell out onto the floor as I sat down. I threw them in the bin and found the second place.

The second place gave me average chips and fish where the batter was still raw in places.