Coursing my way through a normal Wednesday afternoon, the below roused my attention. The following tweet flashed up about a new Loyalty Card scheme set-up between 9 independent coffee shops around the East End of London.

Though unexciting for those devoid of a coffee addiction, the link to this scheme, aptly named the ‘Disloyalty Card’ and conceived by World Barista Champion Gwilym Davies, took me on a little journey.

After a few more bad coffee’s, an online dalliance into the world of the barista and finding myself with a free morning, I set out for Pitch 42 at Whitecross Market – Davies’ very own unbranded coffee stand.

Sipping my skinny Cappuccino and musing with the friendly barista’s about the world of the coffee bean, I was enlightened to the fact that all the participants in the scheme might be close enough to meander around them all in one day. Whether it was my propensity for the ridiculous or my coffee dependency, I hastily cancelled my afternoon appointments and embarked on a mission to visit all 9 shops in one day.

First up was Dose opposite Smithfield Market. Then a short jaunt across to Great Ormond St to the Espresso Rooms before heading onto Taylor St Baristas outside Liverpool street station.

Having tootled down to Victoria Station for a well earned Sushi lunch, I found myself stood outside my next destination, Nude at Spitalfields, devastated with the realisation that I’d lost my Disloyalty Card. Shit. I called the Sushi restaurant to be gleefully told that they’d seen my card only to have thrown it in the bin. Having given my best shot in attempt at persuading them to search through the bins, I jumped back in a taxi bound for Victoria Station. Armed with a pair or rubber gloves and some, perhaps misplaced, motivation my card was eventually found through the mass of discarded napkins and fish scraps.

After an eventual 3 hour stop for lunch and the cordial card hunt, I was back in the game.

Caffeinated hands shaking violently, sweat poring from my moustache, I stumbled back into Nude and ordered yet another skinny cappuccino. After another conversation regarding the ridiculousness of my coffee crawl, I was informed that my next stop was closing in 5 minutes. Dedicated to the cause, I ran out, jumped in a taxi and headed towards ‘Tina, we salute you’ in Dalston. Being 4pm on a Friday afternoon, and all roads suffering the daily cancer of the highways that is the rush hour, I arrived 25 minutes late. Resigned to defeat, I retreated to a local watering hole to contemplate my having been scuppered by a Sushi. Bugger.

In case you were wondering, the best coffee I had was at the Espresso Room on Great Ormond St. Also, as it turns out, they had the friendliest staff and customers.

My sushi splattered memento

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