New York or anywhere

I’m not sure whether it’s my brain always associating being out with my cello and travelling the world, or whether’s there’s some kind of Starbucks ‘force’, but I’m really struggling to comprehend where I am.

I know in reality I’m in Spitalfields market having just played in the Bach Competition [more on that later], but in front of me are a German couple who haven’t spoken in English at all. What makes it wierder is that she is a Bobby Davro Spitting Image of an old singer friend. Behind me are a gaggle of blonde Sex in the City wannabes with New York accents, and to the right another American working on a laptop. Add to that Starbucks Radio which, inbetween unhealthy doses of Dylan, is playing US high school pop and bad Jeff Buckley covers.

I know I shouldn’t be surprised. I know it’s the way SB’s works. i know the idea is that you could be anywhere. There’s virtually a passport control at the door under a sign saying ‘now entering Starbucks Country’. But it’s still strange.

It actually makes me annoyed with myself. Society is becoming addicted to homogeny. We all drive the same cars, use the same computer programmes, replace white goods not when they’re faulty now but when they dare to develop quirks. I once wore tartan trousers for a year to be different, and here I am at the shrine of Starbucks. Soon we’ll be turning down pets who aren’t exactly like Disney characters, or those cute ones on PDSA adverts. Be careful, we may be only one grande skinny vanilla latte away from complete passivity…