London, what are your hipster tea houses doing?

Three double-vodka, lime & sodas done; bish bash bosh. What now? As if we're getting a cup of bloody tea on a Friday night! (NB: not bloody-tea)

Soho is quirky, all the way up to it's glittery mirkin- sometimes vaguely sticky or matted- but always vibrant and effervescent. I was meeting my old friend Gawaine, as unbearable as he is adorable, for some catch-up drinks and to have a stomp around. Despite both of us proudly declaring ourselves "all London, an that!" we are actually fairly rubbish at organising water-tight plans that include specific locations, as opposed to approximate geographical areas. Gawaine started off with "Seven at LS." Now, I haven't consulted others as to whether this acronym is real, let alone even viable, but apparently it stands for Leicester Square- or rather, "Leicester Square. Keep up Grandpa" the horrid little shit.

Quirk, not Quirke

So after running a jolly around various bars in Soho, merrily bish bash boshing double-vodka, lime & sodas (he's diabetic and I've gotten a bit fat) we decided our night was levelling out, we needed to quirk it up to 11. It was then that we found Foxcroft and Ginger [http://www.foxcroftandginger.com/] a brunch-type-place (not a nineteeth-century detective duo, like I'd hoped) for exotic teas and coffees-to-pretend-to-like and things which Gawaine recommended as he had recently dated the shit out of someone there. It looked like it was close to closing and we had to awkwardly consult two not-unattractive lady patrons smoking outside as to whether it was still open: "... yeh, yeh it probably is. Not sure. Try it." Textbook London citizenship.

As we rolled in, on the right side of tipsy and the wrong side of volume control, we had a butchers at what was on offer; various pastries, teas and boozes. Clocking an opportunity, our man Sanders exclaimed, loudly: "Do you do things like teas and boozes mixed together and stuff? Like tea-cocktails? Gawaine, want a tea-cocktail? Wait, let me find out if they do them first..." To which Tom, the gentleman behind the counter, responded "No."

But wait, as if that's the end of the story! Tom, the gentleman behind the counter, followed up by adding: "But I can mix one up for you chaps! Let's have a look at what we have!" Then, like Mr Jekyll, suddenly produced jars and bottles of curious stuffs and liquids for me to ram my schnozz in, quietly repeating "And this, yes? This one, hm? What do you think of this, eh? Do you like that one? Do you? Have another sniff..." In any other situation his tone and intensity would have come across as vaguely rapey, but I must say that I was enchanted!

Gawaine, the fruity champ, enjoying his gin and odd-tea.

I cannot for the life of me remember exactly what I picked, but it contained some kind of queer tea mixed with a not-insignificant amount of rum (loads of fucking rum) and Gawaine had a similarly curious tea but with gin mixed with it- because he's a bit like that. Both drinks, despite having been made up on the spot by our gentleman behind the bar, Tom, were absolutely marvellous! His magnificent nose (in power, rather than size) categorically hit the spot with both beverages- the olfactory wizard! The heart-cloggingly over-buttered croissant that I enjoyed the tea with was also incredibly apt.

Having put away the teas we made our way out all the drunker for hard spirits and all the richer for a new experience at a cracking venue.

London, with quirky brunch joints like Foxcroft and Ginger, you're doing it right!