Dispatch from the John Lewis cafe

‘I’m writing in a cafe’ sounds really cool, doesn’t it? It conjures up images of writing your novel in Paris or New York. There’s Patti Smith over there, smoking a roll-up and scribbling her thoughts about Baudelaire into a Moleskine notebook. The waiters leave you to it - they know not to hurry a genius - and as the cutlery gently clinks and the steam rises from the coffee machine, you come up with such amazing ideas that you land a book deal with a six-figure advance before you can even finish your espresso.

Tell people ‘I’m writing in the John Lewis cafe’ though, and suddenly you are NOT SO COOL. Everything smells of soup, someone’s shat themselves and there are 18 discarded trays under your table covered in custard.

Why is it so crap? Let’s find out…