Pret A Manger

First day at work, thought of popping by here for an early breakfast. What a horrible idea.
I ordered 2 croissants, a yoghurt and a strong latte. The croissants were very stale and too buttery for a breakfast.
The latte was really terrible it had no taste of milk in there, as if they only put a small spoon of milk or something. Ughh.
And the lady that served me the coffee was very unfriendly as well as if she was forced to serve me, doing so with a cheeky smile.
Anyways, that is one place I am not going to again.

Smaller than some of the other Prets around London, this is a good spot for coffee or pastry «On the Go». I’d still rather grab a coffee from here than from the other chains nearby, solely because of Pret’s social responsibility of donating food at the end of the day.

People nowadays whisper Pret in the same embarrassed, hushed breath as they would do Starbucks, Primark and Tony Blair. But really, even the most ardent of independent business supporters could find something they like about it. Just as I’m a sucker for a caramel macchiato, a pair of £3 ballet pumps and a man who bans fox hunting despite their numerous other sins, so I’m a massive lover of Pret breakfasts (and wraps for that matter). And considering we spent a few days in London calling upon the establishment for our morning meal, I soon got used to the good stuff.
I absolutely adore their yoghurt, fruit and granola pots. Seriously, the cereal is the right amount of crunchy and sweet, the yoghurt is sour enough not to feel as if you’re drinking a bottle of Yop and as for the multitude of berries included — strawb, rasp, blue… it’s an excellent petit dejuner. Add to this the variety of crisp, fresh pastries on offer and the warm melty English muffins and you’d be hard-​pushed to resist.
There’s a bit of contention over just how good Pret coffee is. I’m not a connoisseur but the hardened bean drinkers amongst us seemed divided. Some swore by it, so it’s worth testing out. All in all it’s relatively inexpensive for London fare but be warned — if you come down to The Big Smoke from Manchester or any littler and more laid back city you may get a culture shock from the lines of suits and the row of baristas barking monosyllabic orders at one another. Suddenly I felt all homesick for the lilting call of «Alreet there love, how ya doin’? What can I get yer, pet?» Ohh, where were those cobbles when I needed them…