16 Mar Starbucks doesn’t cut it–London coffee friends
I don’t recall how I found the East Village Cafe. It’s not like it’s in my neighbourhood. A few doors west of the Aeolian Hall, it’s east London. But for the past few years, almost like clock work, when I begin to mark student papers, upwards of 75, my Saturdays are spent here. Sitting in an old wooden church pew, fuelled with enough caffeine to start a small plane, I can plough through paper after paper. Eat a few oatmeal energy balls with raisins and I get a second wind to mark for the entire afternoon. That is, until I need wine and migrate down the street to The Morrissey House to see my gang.