The Martin Café


The cold, wet and windy weather is back.  Children’s recreation grounds on my walk to Raynes Park and back were deserted.  Silence rained where yesterday had resounded the cries of happy youngsters.  Even the birdsong was subdued.

My pit stop on this route was, as usual, the Martin Café.  I would like to explain why I consider it one of, if not the, best in London.  And, especially during ten years of road running, I became somewhat of a conoisseur of such establishments.  First of all it is frequented by builders (and at least one man who walks from Merton Civic centre shunning the myriad of eating places in Morden itself).  Builders and (in inner London taxi drivers) are a sure sign of good food, reasonable prices, and large helpings.

The Martin has it all.  I can only eat their breakfasts after a good hour’s walk, and I am no longer rash enough to take the chips option.  I stick to the three rashers, two eggs, large sausages, and loads of whatever else comes with my choice of their 10 breakfast options. There is never a trace of grease or fat on the enormous oval plates.  The bread is fresh, crusty, and what we used to call doorsteps.

So, if you want a good meal come down to the Martin in Martin Way, but take lots of exercise or starve yourself first.

This evening we had more of Jackie’s delicious beef stew and I finished the wine.


9 responses to “The Martin Café”

  1. […] Unusually, the text of the page containing ‘A dirty shop-window in a dirty street’, describes a different building, the home of the character in the next illustration. Here we have a poor man’s eating house, the Victorian equivalent of a greasy spoon, namely ‘a small, cheap eatery – either an American diner or coffee shop, or a British or Irish cafe – typically specialising in fried foods and/or home-cooked meals.’ (Wikipedia). During my running days I was a connoisseur of London’s wide-spread finest, such as The Martin Café […]

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