I can trace the geography of my son’s childhood through our succession of local libraries, nearest playgrounds – and Morrisons cafés. When he was a newborn, there was one 15 minutes’ walk away. Making that trip – managing to leave the house, hoping he fell asleep en route so I could have a relatively cheap cuppa and cake in peace, and interacting with the outside world – well, it was a lifeline in those early months.
By the time we graduated to another north-west London branch on our way back from toddler Sing and Sign classes on Fridays, the brand had undergone a cosier revamp: out went the tubular steel chairs fixed to the floor, and in came an assortment of wooden seats in bright colours. if(window.adverts) { window.
adverts.addToArray({"pos": "inread-hb-ros-inews"}); }And what a treat those lunches were: fish and chips or a jacket potato with a side salad – simple, hot food that I hadn’t cooked myself. There were accessible toilets, wide spaces between the tables, stacks of plastic high chairs and other messy, loud customers to blend in with (not always the little ones).
That branch shut a few years ago. Now, midway through junior school, there’s another Morrisons café near his swimming lessons that we have been going to on Tuesdays. We pick up the yellow-stickered cheese toasties for a couple of quid just before the kitchen closes and I have my no-frills cuppa (still stainless steel teapots with little tubs of UHT milk).
We pick up the yellow-stickered cheese toasties for a couple of quid and I have my no-frills cuppaThe whole operation is cheap and cheerful, but very unloved. For a couple of months in winter the store’s heating was broken, so all the staff wore woolly hats and we would sit eating in our coats. Quite often, the ovens are switched off before closing time (the “buy an adult meal, get a kids’ one free” is rarely available later in the afternoon) and sometimes even the toastie maker has been wound down for the day.
All in all, it’s not a surprise that our local branch is one of the 52 cafés Morrisons is ditching this month, as part of its “optimisation strategy” (344 will remain). But I find it a sad loss, especially as it’s part of a general trend – Sainsbury’s announced the closure of its remaining 61 cafés in January, citing their declining popularity. if(window.
adverts) { window.adverts.addToArray({"pos": "mpu_mobile_l1"}); }if(window.
adverts) { window.adverts.addToArray({"pos": "mpu_tablet_l1"}); }Some supermarkets have outsourced their catering to chains such as Starbucks or Costa – which means expensive syrupy lattes, pre-packed paninis and a distinct lack of aproned own-brand staff beavering away making real food in the kitchen behind the counter (and not a jacket potato in sight).
The closures are part of the dehumanisation of grocery shopping. Many customers do their shopping online, use automated checkouts, or take those handheld barcode scanners around the shop, with speed being the name of the game. So no wonder the viability of cafes is in question.
But this comes at the expense of routine human interaction, which is particularly valuable to people who live alone, especially those who can only justify eating out if they combine it with their weekly shop.#color-context-related-article-2525768 {--inews-color-primary: #3759B7;--inews-color-secondary: #EFF2FA;--inews-color-tertiary: #3759B7;} Read Next square GRACE HOLLIDAY I'm truly heartbroken by the demise of WilkoRead MoreOn a Facebook thread about my local branch’s closure, there are some snooty remarks about the staff and quality of food, but there is also heartfelt disappointment from older people who don’t know where else they can go.So the decline of supermarket cafés doesn’t just feel like a personal loss, as sentimental as my son says I’m being about it.
They offer an affordable, sociable way to eat out for many people ill-served by Britain’s trendier high street café culture – pensioners taking a breather after their weekly shop, people on low incomes, and, yes, frazzled parents of young children.It’s yet another opportunity gone for everyday human interaction – and this particular loss will hit people who really need it..
Politics
Supermarket cafes are a lifeline for parents like me – I’m sad to see their decline

It’s yet another opportunity gone for everyday human interaction