A love letter to café owners everywhere

As a child, I almost never went to coffee shops, except for the most special occasions when we would go for afternoon tea at Tyrrell & Green on Southampton High Street, which had been plying its trade since 1897. By ‘afternoon tea’ I don’t mean a three-tiered cake stand laden with tiny cucumber sandwiches and posh cakes. That was far too expensive. I mean a cup of tea in a china cup in the afternoon, at a table covered in white linen.

I am pretty sure my mum was imagining she was living a different life as she sat there, little finger bent at the tip, sipping her tea and eavesdropping on other shoppers’ conversations. As for us kiddos, we loved it because the waiter would always bring out a silver cloche, and dramatically lift the lid to offer us a selection of flavours of Club biscuit. Mint or orange for me. It was always a tough choice. Back then I thought this was the height of sophistication, although now you can get seven Club biscuits for less than a pound at the supermarket.

When I was about ten, my grandma moved down from up north and came to live next to us. She wouldn’t go anywhere without a promise of tea and cake, so cafés become a greater part of my life.

At uni I had very little money, so I rarely went to such places, but by the time I moved to Tokyo in 2000, coffee culture was booming, and as a singleton living alone I spent most of my weekends at cafés. They offered companionship, even if I was on my own. I loved the soft buzz of chatter, the warmth in winter and aircon in summer, and the sense of possibility I felt anytime I opened a notebook to dream about what I might do next.

(Later I would learn that one of the best ways to discover thriving local communities in rural Japan would be to seek out barista coffee, which was often being served up in a renovated old house, or seaweed factory or other building having a second life as a café. Many pages of my books have been written in such places.)

By the time I had my own children and was living back in the UK, coffee culture had exploded here too. When our oldest was a baby we lived in Brighton (which was just named Coffee Capital of the UK, with more than 57 independent cafes per 100,000 residents). She spent almost every day of her early years in one café or another. Cafés were where we met other work-from-homers, where we socialised with other new parents, where we felt a sense of normality in the chaos of those early years, and the caffeine boost was always welcome after all the broken sleep.

One day, a few months before our second child was born, I distinctly remember being in a cafe in Kemptown looking through our finances when I realised that much as we loved Brighton life, we were haemorraging money at an unsustainable rate. We decided to leave and buy a small house in my hometown of Southampton close to my family, where our mortgage would be half the rent we had been paying. Everything about the move made sense, except for Southampton’s distinct lack of cafés.

Fortunately for us our move coincided with one guy, Spencer Bowman, embarking on a mission to ‘bring better coffee to Southampton’. We found a new working home in his cosy place called Mettricks Old Town, and were delighted when he opened further Mettricks cafés near the old Bargate, and then a flagship space at Mettricks Guildhall, in a large industrial building just a stone’s throw from Tyrrell & Green, where I used to get my Club biscuits on a silver platter.

Mettricks Guildhall became our defacto office. We used to go so often that my older brother had one of the wooden chairs engraved with my name on as a fun gift one birthday.

I interviewed Spencer for my first book, Freedom Seeker, and wrote much of the book in the quieter space upstairs. We held the book launch there - my first and only book launch party. It was a public event, and the entire place was packed to the rafters with friends, family and curious strangers, and although I don’t love parties which celebrate me, it was a brilliant evening.

It was in that same café that I had a lovely 40th birthday lunch with my family, and then at that very same table some months later that we found out our eldest daughter hadn’t got into any of the primary schools we had applied for, which was the catalyst for our subsequent move to Devon.

When we left, Spencer gifted our girls Mettricks’ iconic mustard yellow cup and saucer each, filled with marshmallows, so they would remember all the hot chocolates they had enjoyed there.

Latterly, when my mum was in the hospice planning her own funeral (words which still don’t make sense to me), she decided she just wanted everyone to get together for coffee and cake, as she loved to do. The obvious choice was Mettricks Guildhall and Spencer agreed without hesitation. The team made an impossible day as much of a joy as it could be.

I am sharing all this because it all came flooding back when I heard, just this week, that after ten years in business, Mettricks Guildhall will close down tomorrow. It is only in reflecting on this that I realised just how significant a role cafés have played in our lives as a family, and in my life as a writer. I wanted to take a moment of gratitude for Mettricks Guildhall in particular, but also cafés in general, for all they offer us, even under extremely difficult economic circumstances.

In his announcement on social media, Spencer wrote,

“The truth is Guildhall is no longer commercially viable for us. Following Covid our landlord increased our rent by around 50%, despite our warning that it was unsustainable. We have tried everything we could to make it work, while still carrying Bounce Back Loan debt from Covid. And the last two Budgets have added huge pressure through employer NI, business rates and National Living Wage increases. I have spent much of the past two years campaigning about this, including backing #VATsTheProblem. People ask what difference reducing VAT would make. From now on Guildhall is my answer. This isn’t a failing café. It is busy and people still want it. But the economics no longer work. I am devastated we cannot keep this special place open.”

So much love poured out for the café in the comments, with people sharing their experiences of first dates and engagements there, and how it had been a second home for them over the years. The loss of any independent café is a loss for a community on so many levels, not just for what the café offers, but the role it plays in supporting a wider network of cultural organisations and events.

I wanted to take this opportunity to send love to all the independent coffee shop owners and staff who put so much thought and care into creating spaces where we can connect with others (or simply be around others and feel less isolated), feel inspired, experience community, have a quiet read and even get warm in winter. And of course, to offer places for us to write our books, and launch them into the world. I know for a fact that my books wouldn’t have been written, at the same pace or in the same way, were it not for the coffee shops where I have spent many happy hours writing.

Many of these café owners are having a hard time making their businesses work right now. If you have a favourite local place, why not make a plan to visit it soon, recommend it to others, or perhaps simply forward this to the owner and let them know how much you appreciate the space they provide. Feel free to shout out to your favourite café in the comments, perhaps sharing what you love about it. Or share what role cafés have played in your own creative life.

A deep bow of gratitude to Spencer and the entire Mettricks team, and to every coffee shop owner and staff member who works so hard to make these vital spaces for us to dream, connect, relax and write.

Beth Xx