The Pines Garden Tea Room & Museum (from the She Came, She Saw and She Ate Cake series)

You know the way where you’re standing at the counter trying to work out what you want, and worried that you’re taking up too much time, but you definitely don’t want to skimp on getting exactly what you feel you’re in the mood for? (However, annoyingly the problem is usually that you don’t yet know what you’re in the mood for until something inspires you.) On these occasions (so for me, practically any time I go out to have coffee) one of two things can happen: either the waitress/waiter gives you one of those stares or cold smiles that says, “Hurry up, I haven’t got all day!” or they do what they did today, putting me immediately at ease.

By ‘putting me at ease’, I mean that they kind of go along with my indecisiveness and try to educate me into making a well-informed decision. “We have real coffee from a cafetiere,” explained the lovely woman. “It’s really good.” I was sold, because she made it sound like it was pure gold coffee from magic beans found buried under palaces in Costa Rica. And when I began to hum and haw over cake choices, she didn’t tap her foot impatiently or roll her eyes at her colleague. Instead, when I had finally made my decision (carrot cake, obvs!) the gigantic smile on her face suggested that I had made the best decision of my week, possibly my life.

All this to say, friendly staff equates a friendly atmosphere and homely-feeling tearoom.

It’s quite a small tearoom, decorated simply in calming shades of duck-egg, magnolia and light greens. (Only know these names because at one point we were looking at similar shades to paint our living-room!) It attracts quite a lot of light, which is nice on a dull, grey Sunday afternoon. It’s not one of those cafes which is full of hipsters with piercings who scribble poetry in notebooks whilst sipping their soy chai lattes. I’m the only one who’s sitting on my own with my laptop. The others are happy-looking young couples, probably in their thirties, and older people having come in from their afternoon rambling with their anoraks and walking-boots. Now we need to add a handsome French backpacker to the mix, lost and looking for directions. Oh, he’s ordered tea and biscuits. How British and quaint of him!

The customers interact with other customers and the serving staff. There’s intermingling between tables. Inter-tabling, if you will. There’s not this feeling of, ‘don’t talk to me or I’ll bite your head off.’ There’s laughing and chatter and even dog-barking. So another point for its dog-friendliness.

Now let’s talk about the cake.

I feel that for the mostpart, unless you’re on a diet or budgeting or one of those rare individuals who don’t like sweet things, when you say ‘to go for coffee’, what you really mean is ‘to go for coffee and cake.’ The selection of things to eat is varied and appealing. If the scone selection hadn’t been right beside the counter, I would have taken a picture for you. The scones were enormous. There were fruit ones AND cheese ones. I was slightly disappointed not to see plain ones, otherwise that would have been my choice. However the size definitely makes up for the lack of, well, plain ones.

The coffee was good. Not as strong as you get in the continent, so that means I prefer it. One thing I would say is that I didn’t see any alternative-to-milk options advertised, as I prefer to go for soy or almond or oat or cocount milk. Now, I didn’t ask, and perhaps there was something else available, but since ‘normal’ milk as a general rule doesn’t kill me, I decided just to get on with my business of sitting down to judge the tearoom and eat cake.

I was thinking that all in all it wouldn’t be the best place to come in the future to write or work, but boy how that was an assumption made far too soon! It seemed busy, noisy, friendly, happy. Great for socialising and sheltering from the elements. But not the ideal environment to concentrate. Sometimes I like to be surrounded by austeer-looking hipsters, angsting over their sudokus. It seems to get my creative-juices flowing. That and some nice, calming music, lack of squawling babies and noisy children, and interesting decor.

However, after my coffee and cake I went to explore the museum which is attached to the tearoom. Lo and behold, did I not find another whole area of tables and chairs set apart from the main hubble and bubble, which would have been perfect to sit at for working on this blog post and my book.

I looked around the museum. It’s quite interesting, and actually has a whole wall dedicated to artists who used the area as a retreat for working on their respective pieces of art (writing mostly).

It made me stop and reflect on how lucky I am to live where I do. St.Margaret’s-at-Cliffe and St.Margaret’s Bay seem to be marvelous places to find inspiration for writing and creativity.

So I’ll definitely be back. It’s worth a visit, whether you’re looking for a bit of solitude to work, read or ponder, or a place to have a catch-up with friends.