Cutting costs Darling!
With a whiff of starry France, napkins in subtle beige and the sparkly decor a far cry from its beefy cousin’s plastic tat, Pret a Manger has earned its place as the nation’s respectable coffee joint. Countrywide, smooth talkers and ex-Oxbridge regularly meet over parsnip snacks and hot falafel wraps.
In the Soho branch James offered to pay for me (extra hot, tall skinny latte plus love bar). The barista asked if we were going to eat in.
‘No.’ Said James. How disappointing I thought – it was raining outside.
And with that he shrugged off his Aquascutum overcoat and perched his preppy rear on a shiny stool.
‘But James! You said we weren’t going to eat in.’
‘Dear Tess, only mugs pay the VAT.’
‘And if we get caught?’
‘Do I look like the sort of person they’re going to throw out?’
All blonde and foppish with a sudden daring pink flush in his cheeks I had to concede James’s seat looked safe.
He will, I realise, be less affected than most by Darling’s post-Christmas VAT rise. But then, James is middle class. (Maybe even upper-middle).
Tessa Dunlop
