Sundays at home are my favourite days. I don’t really think about the threat of Monday morning, because the steam rippling over all the downstairs windows and the smell of roasting potatoes distracts me. Sunday means time out with my Dad, who smells like ‘garden’, listening to dodgy 1970s psychedelia in the car and a walk around Chilbolton Common in bare feet.

Sundays at University, because of this reason I suppose, are my least favourite days.

Today however has been different. Today I slept in until half past 9. This doesn’t seem very late, but for someone who finds it difficult to wake up any later than half past 7, this was a  beautiful feeling. I might add that this was the result of 2 pints of ale last night – an enjoyment that can be blamed by 3 years spent socialising in Cornish pubs rather than townie clubs.

Hangover free but relishing the excuse to be grumpy (suffering the Sunday Blues), I receive an inviting text from some gorgeous ladies to go for a coffee to Espressini – a relatively new espresso bar situated less than 100m from my front door.

(This stunning photo is courtesy of Espressini Café’s Facebook Page *please let me know if there are issues with using this picture*)

Espressini  is owned by Rupert, whose Hoxton-Fin haircut looks with every habitual sweep, as if it reveals the secrets of half of Falmouth.  Upon entering, you are immediately acknowledged as an old friend. After just 3 visits, he had remembered that I drink my coffee black. Though the other baristas are very friendly, I am always a little disappointed when Rupert does not serve me – he is the King of Coffee, and if missing, the full experience of Espressini is ever so slightly incomplete. Today is one of those days, but no matter. I am with Jessie, Meg and Amy – 3 of the loveliest ladies in Fal. So all is well.

The blackboard is full of scribbled writing, describing in every detail the level of strength, the depth of taste and the complex layers of flavour that embody the specially chosen coffees. I always think that I’m going to confidently declare exactly what I want, pronounced perfectly. Instead I panic slightly at the amount of choice and blurt out “The El Salvador one please…urr…filter please”. I have chosen the elaborately titled – ‘El Salvador – Maute Sion Estate Carton Tapacurl-Ahuchipion’.  I am not sure which is the title, the place or the flavour, (or even if all that is spelled correctly) but the posh filter cups and the little filter sleeve look so professionally tailored for the coffee’s purpose, that I’m not really that bothered. I am tempted by the fig brownies…

The coffee is delicious. The citrussy flavour tumbles around my mouth, changing and developing so remarkably quick that my tired taste buds can’t keep up with them. But I am warmed, and my grumpiness begins to subside.

I eye my way around the café space. An ancient wooden counter stretches across the compact shop, a jigsaw of fixed and re-fixed pieces. The furniture coincides with this carefully arranged mix and match. Just opposite the counter is My Chair. It is red, high-backed and quirkily patched with a green and dark blue stripe. It is the chair that when I’m in it, legs curled up beneath me, it makes me feel as if I am part of the furniture of this super-stylish, but comfortably unpretentious café.

A group of art students sit Ohmigod-ing on the next table. On our other side, an older couple read their Telegraph in content silence. An odd bunch, but no one is out of place. There is a feeling in the coffee-scented air of everyone privately believing that they have been the first to ‘discover’ Espressini.

As the chatter surrounds me I forget how strong the coffee is. I order another, a Cuban blend with notes of cocoa this time, and 10 minutes later my foot begins to unconsciously  tap. Phwwww!

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I started writing this at least 2 hours ago – before I thought walking around Falmouth with a tote full of ingredients for bread and butter pudding, was a good idea. Now I am back by my window watching the sun go down over Falmouth town and feeling slightly relieved that my bloodstream is gradually decaffienating.

From the many seaside-inspired cafés that are regurgitated for the benefit of tourism, Espressini stands alone to welcome anyone – student, local or tourist – to feel as if that chair, that coffee and that friendly welcome is exclusive to you. The coffee of course, is absolutely incredible. But just the one cup is perfect.

TBC. Rosie x

*Find Espressini @ 39 Killigrew Street, Falmouth, Cornwall, TR11 3PW

Cure for the Sunday Blues: Coffee, Friends and Laura Marling

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