I like coffee and have been drinking it since I was a little boy. In the early days it was milk coffee made with, yes, instant coffee. I remember pouring the hot milk from the saucepan into a mug and the childish satisfaction of dipping a biscuit into the steaming java. Often as not only half a biscuit would emerge, the remainder to be scooped out by teaspoon at a later time. In my teens I graduated to the espresso-machine made cappuccino which became my staple for decades. When I bought my own machine and grinder about 10 years ago, I began making more of a latte, though still with a slightly bitter palate.

Making your own coffee with fresh beans can turn you into a bit of a snob, where every shop-bought beverage is compared to the lovingly-prepared home-made one. It is not a fair fight really and few coffees I buy come near to those that I make myself, though sometimes they do and I can only salute the barista. In fact, I often go back and tell them what a great cup of coffee they just made. Yes, I must get a life, truly I must!

Which brings me to the photo I reprint below. Set in Boston in 1964, the ultra-stylish St Claires' Coffee Shop (hmm, interesting placement of the apostrophe) is exactly the place I would loved to have walked into, had I been older than six, at the time. Consider the decor, the gorgeous pendant lamps, low screens, curtains, modish plastic chairs, pot plants and hat stands, the shopfront as an integrated statement, then tell me you don't want to step out of that Cadillac and find a seat somewhere in the midst of the coffee and strawberry shortcake.