“This coffee shop is very small but what goes on in there is as big as the world.” — Dave Stewart

For twelve years now, since I became a fan of Pulp’s Different Class, I have told myself to get here one day. And I made it today. What is this cafe like to get written grittily but beautifully about in the title song performed in Mercury Prize Ceremony 1996 by the winner?

It’s an old bar opened in 1949 by Lou and Caterina Polledri and has been run by their family. The cafe locates modestly on Frith Street, next to all the razzmatazzes of the busy and splendid area in Central London. It keeps the Italian spirit: ancient coffee machine, ancient till, old TV and pictures on the wall, and best flavour of espresso and tiramisu and cheesecakes.

Isn’t it surprising that right in the midst of London there lies a cafe of the Italian where card payment is still refused and waitresses barely speak English? And isn’t it even more surprising that celebrities and loyal fans come here on a regular basis for all those years?

For Bar Italia, “everything must change to stay the same.” Wanderers always come back to Soho finding an old one-way street change its direction or a shop closed and newly opened. But Bar Italia is still there and remains as it has been. It is a football cafe that supports Italy with all of the red, white and green bar flags, but at the same time gives the nostalgia to everyone else too.

“When the world comes to an end, Bar Italia’s door will still be open.” It is at every hour and every weather. It’s like a berth that awaits and welcomes you back all the time.

I came there with an empty stomach. Ordered myself a cup of coffee, two sugars. Knowing the sickness will come.

But it’s worth it. My lifelong waiting, and my dizziness.

Cuz this place is intoxicating by itself anyways.