That Café around the corner…

I must have walked down that street a hundred times without ever paying attention to the cafe. I had probably even looked into its reflective windows from time to time or jumped over the early morning water runoff trailing from the spot where the cafe's chairs would later sit. I am sure that I must have been listening to music or daydreaming or trying to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk. Whatever the case may be, I never saw the cafe; it wasn't there.

I never listened when anyone spoke about the cafe either. They would say it's name, "Cafe --" but I would never hear it. In the office people would come and go at noon or one or two each day, always returning from the invisible cafe. I didn't pay it any mind. I didn't give the place much thought at all really. I worked just around the corner for months and never went in.

When I finally did step into the cafe, I had the surreal feeling that I had fallen into an internet fan site or a quirky film about a neurotic collector. From floor to ceiling the walls were encrusted with framed photos of HRH, Diana, The Princess of Wales. The wrought iron outside was floral with gold leaf and pronounced the establishment: "Cafe Diana." These things should not have seemed anything more than passing quirks of a uniquely themed restaurant. Cafe Diana was, after all, only a hop, skip, and a jump away from Kensington Palace. The real strangeness of the cafe was not its stacks of photos, but instead its choice of food. Cafe Diana was a Mediterranean kebab shop.

The place smelled of the following ingredients: hummus, onions, steaming hot falafels, pickles, coffee, hot chocolate, lamb, chicken, and salt. Though not usually a pleasant combination, when combined with the wooden booths, framed photos of Lady Di, and the red trimmed windows, it really was impossible to do anything but sit down and wait for one of the staff members to hand me a menu.

Location: Notting Hill/Queensway, London, England