Frank

Frank

Toynbee Street, Spitalfields, London

I know Frank doesn’t really qualify to be here, as he’s not actually a trading shop and all that. But the truth is I have a bit of a soft spot for him. I tried to work out what Frank is, or was, by peering through the gap in the boards and I think Frank was probably a café.

Not any old café though. Frank was the sort of café where your egg, bacon, chips and beans came on a plate the size of my Nan’s tea tray, and the tea came in a proper man size mug. Here’s to Frank and all who sailed in him.

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