I had an exceptionally good coffee last week at the new St David Coffee House in Forest Hill (across the road from the train station). The cafe has a slightly retro feel in terms of the decor - there's an eight track cartridge player (not sure if it works) and strategically placed iconic vinyl (e.g. Morrissey and Stone Roses). Reading matter includes a book swap scheme, a couple of daily papers and a stack of vintage Vogues.
At some point I am going to write about the history of coffee houses in SE London, but for now check out this love letter to coffee by Carolyn (all way from Detroit to Nunhead) at her I Am Not A Reliable Narrator blog:
'I remember, Coffee, how I used to struggle through a mug of you when we first became acquainted, back in 1993. I was young, my palate untested. I added creamer after creamer to you in order to hide your flavour. But, Coffee, I learned and I grew and now I understand. And I know I stopped drinking you for a few sad years in the early Oughts when my stomach was giving me troubles, but that wasn’t about you Coffee, it was never your fault, it was all me and my traitorous digestive system'.