In That Cafe in Glasgow

In England, national holidays are called Bank Holidays. I had never considered why, but I always appreciated the rare break from the daily grind. It gives us a moment to breathe.

So, during one such long weekend in April, we decided to take a trip to Scotland. Now, most people tend to ignore Glasgow when thinking of Scotland, assuming it’s only good for office work. But that's not the case. There’s so much to see there — from historic buildings to cultural sights — that a single day wouldn't be enough, and you might even lose track of time as day turns into night.

We set out early to explore Glasgow. But as is typical with UK weather, it started pouring, complete with hail. We were running around, looking for shelter. It was still early, the streets were quiet, and the city hadn't fully awake.

Soaked, we stumbled into a small coffee shop. From the outside, it didn’t look like much. But as soon as we entered, it felt like stepping into a place from another time. One elderly gentleman, probably around 60 years old (or so I guessed), was running the end-to-end show—taking orders, making coffee, and serving everything.

Soft music filled the room, however I couldn't understand the language, but it was soothing. A few other customers were enjoying their coffee and quietly chatting amongst themselves. I love this kind of peaceful ambience here in the UK.

Even in conversations, people speak in hushed tones, as if not wanting to disturb the calm.

Among the customers was an elderly couple who smiled at us as we entered. We smiled back and exchanged a soft "Good morning." It was clear they were a bit surprised, probably because you don’t often see many Indians in places like this.

We ordered two coffees and a hot chocolate, not expecting anything fancy. Honestly, at that moment, anything hot would do. We were drenched and freezing, even hot water would have been welcomed.

When the coffee arrived, we were speechless for a few seconds. We hadn’t even tasted it yet, but looking at the cups and the presentation gave us a strange sense of joy. It was like an instant mood boost!

Take a look at the above picture. You can find the perfect layers of coffee in a double-layered glass cup. It looked beautiful, and even holding the cup felt special. The outer layer wasn’t hot, but the coffee inside was piping hot. I might have seen cups like this before, but unable to remember when or where—probably sometime back in the 90s at someone’s house.

At that moment, I understood why this little old café had stood the test of time and was still busy. It wasn’t about the fancy décor or the outward appearance. It was about quality and warmth—the kind that keeps you coming back.

It made me think about how often we judge things by their appearance, whether it's a shop or a person. And yet, we "wise" ones know that’s not the right way. Still, we make that mistake.

The three of us enjoyed our coffee, and we couldn’t resist adding some pastries and cake. In cafés like this, everything is homemade, which adds to the charm. As we savoured each bite, the beautiful music continued, pulling us in. The melody felt familiar, intoxicating, almost magical.

Before leaving, I complimented the elderly gentleman on his excellent song choice. He smiled and told me it was in Greek. We chatted for a while, which, to be honest, is one of my bad habits—I can’t resist striking up a conversation with strangers. I feel like if I don’t talk, how will I learn about their stories and their lives? And it’s through these stories that we learn new things.

The gentleman seemed surprised at first, probably not expecting a foreigner to strike up a conversation. The other customers were also giving me curious glances, likely wondering what this chatty foreigner was up to.

When the rain had first started, I cursed it. But by the time we were ready to leave, I realized if it hadn’t rained, we wouldn’t have experienced this lovely, little moment.

As they say, everything happens for a reason.