Located on a busy road in Sheffield's City Centre, Coffee Moco is a small espresso cafe featuring the high-tech decor typical of many small espresso cafes, with sidewalk tables offering a view of passing pedestrians and Supertrams. Besides espresso drinks the menu features ice cream shakes as well as interesting-sounding ready-made panini sandwiches and baguettes.
On the Monday afternoon of my visit I ordered a single macchiato (£1.20) which was served in a plain white espresso cup and was capped with a tasteful amount of milk foam. Although it looked perfect as far as macchiatos go the shot tasted a bit weak and sour. Considering the barista who served me seemed rather sad it could have just been her mood that produced such an effect. Coincidentally I had just visited a poorly lit photo booth at Boots for passport photos where I ended up with the most atrocious mug shots of myself ever produced, in which I appeared as if I'd just had a nervous breakdown and my liver wasn't functioning properly. In fact, if my quadruple likeness had been used in the film Amelie it would have been classified as a horror film. So I probably didn't look so chipper myself.
There were only a few people in the cafe on this Monday afternoon, and they all seemed a bit sad. The TV in the corner of the cafe was showing an emotional scene on an afternoon soap, and the stack of Harp Lager ashtrays seemed sadly ironic in an establishment that doesn't serve alcohol. Even the chairs, with the word "SHED" carved into the backs, suggested tears being shed. I'll admit it was a Monday afternoon, but I've never subscribed to that oh-no-it's-Monday and thank-god-it's-Friday sort of attitude to life. At least the sandwiches -- brie and mango, prawn and crab, mozzarella sundried tomato and pesto -- sounded promising and optimistic. Perhaps I should have had one of those before I visited the photo booth.
I'm sure Coffee Moco is probably quite the cheerful, lively place at the right times. But on this afternoon I found myself wondering if this could be the place the 1980s band Sad Cafe named itself after. Or no, I suppose they might have gotten their name from The Ballad of the Sad Cafe, a story by Carson McCullers -- who must have been inspired by this cafe.
As I finished my macchiato and left a supertram passed by full of passengers. Where were they heading? To greener pastures? To fortune and fame? Or back to their boring jobs? Would they meet friends after work and paint the town red? Or would they hole up in their homes watching yet another uplifting chapter of EastEnders?
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