In a weird way it felt like coming home.” “When this place opened last year, I was straight in. “I don’t even want to tell you how often I used to pop into the Pret downstairs from my office,” she says, a laptop and an empty coffee cup in front of her. She only commutes into the office two days a week. At the counter, an older man unfolds a plastic M&S bag and loads it with a tuna baguette and a bottle of orange juice.Īt one of the tables, a woman called Nicole is “ working from home” for a City firm. A mother wheels a buggy in past a badly parked electric bike and settles down to feed her newborn.
On a grey Monday lunchtime in June, the scene inside a south-east London branch of Pret doesn’t feel particularly revolutionary.
