Door To The Troubadour
My ears pricked eagerly as I discreetly picked up a snatch of conversation. Two trendy urbane 30-something year old women were deep in lady chatter at the table next to me. They start speaking too fast, they know voyeurs with ears are afoot.
Missing out on further details of her *ahem* kinky exhibitionist tendencies, I resume my attention towards my delicious all-day breakfast and the following dessert of seriously sublime, lime key pie.
I like the Troubadour cafe. It's a place I can sincerely imagine myself spending whole afternoons reading, thinking (sparingly), and abusing the free wi-fi. The coffee's great, the interior smells of historical bohemia and the music background is impeccable ( Bob Dylan , Jimi Hendrix, just to name a few legends who played back here in the day).
Good food, decent prices, nice pub/cafe/homely feel, wi-fi for free and gigs downstairs come dinner time. Hell, I think I'll move in, set up camp and never ever leave. Just like that chap down there.


