Large Black Americano. Curators Coffee Beans. £2.10.
Whilst begrudgingly wandering to my first shift since returning from holiday, I decided to take a de-tour to get coffee. After dodging around several side streets I stumbled across a place called Curators Coffee, located on Cullum Street, just off from Fenchurch Street.
This hidden gem is the definition of hipster coffee shop. Small enough for only about 7 people standing and about 3 seated, the decor was wooden with open scaffolding. They sold their own coffee beans, and it’s one of those places where they don’t put the lid on, allowing you to add your own sugar, while judging you heavily if you do. You feel as though every man who walks into that shop will instantaneously sprout a glorious beard.
The coffee was amazing. The cup was so well insulated that my coffee stayed hot for 45 mins but my hand didn’t burn while holding it. Friendly Staff. Happy customer.
Although, unhappy employee. Whilst working in luxury hospitality I have worked well over 100 shifts in about 9 months. I have met some incredible managers, where their events run effortlessly, last night was not one of those events. Although, the venue is always a pleasure to work in, The old billingsgate market, located on the North Bank with a stunning view across the river stretching from Tower Bridge to Blackfriars Bridge. The venue capacity is immense, with 80,000 square feet of coverage, last nights event catered for 900 guests.
I oh so lazily jumped on the bus to come home. Arriving to my roommate/best friend wearing her wig and Yoda hat attempting to pack for her holiday. My tidying had not gone to plan earlier, so I waded though the crap on my floor, tossed the crap off my bed, and curled up in a ball under my duvet and several blankets. Checking snapchat to determine the temperature was in fact 0 degrees in my bedroom, I vowed to purchase an electric blanket, then drifted off to sleep.