Costa Coffee

Nestled within the great indigenous population of Lewes is a thriving community of ex-Londoners. We run into each other (especially when removal vans arrive) talk about postcodes and have ludicrous conversations comparing Lewes to Brixton or Hackney. While Lewesians complain about car parking and school places, we urban refugees just smile. These factors are stroke-inducingly stressful in the big city. We love a million things about Lewes. There was one thing missing though for a long time: proper coffee shops. When Caffe Nero opened we were thrilled. At last we could get a fantastic steamy skinny latte in a polystyrene cup on our way to work again. Parents had a place to meet with pre-school children and our teenagers had a hangout zone where they could drink frappes (whatever they are) and sit on one another's laps.

Today I visited Costa Coffee. What a disaster. It reminded me of everything that is dreary and depressing about small provincial towns. Two miserable staff cleaned surfaces with revolting-looking cloths for ages before serving me. The latte tasted more of soap than coffee and formed a skin after every sip. The tall cup didn't balance on the saucer and the table was dirty and completely off-balance. So the horrible, boiling hot, overfilled coffee spilled all over the table and my dress. The staff then scowled even more. I will never ever go there again. Thank God for Nero's. If Costa was the only coffee shop there would be a mass exodus back to the big smoke and Lewes would be poorer for it. JW