If only the owner would remember to take his medication every morning, this could be a very good little cafe. The black pudding sandwich I had was delicious, and the coffee was perfectly acceptable. However, the poor, depressed proprietor couldn't smile and look us in the eye, and the plates of food were placed willy-nilly on the table, rather than in front of us. When I asked for the bill, he threw up his arms and exhaled loudly through his pursed lips. I felt sorry for him.