It’s been a rough weekend so far. Having woken at ten in the morning, i’ve had to lounge in bed watching ‘Sherlock’ for over an hour (hi Benedict Cumerbatch!). I’ve then walked to Borough Markets. Stuffed a Balkan Boureka in my face followed closely by a completely unnecessary (but also very necessary because they had just arrived hot from the oven) cheese and olive baguette.

From then I went and spoke to a man about a mushroom (actually a paté, more about that another time). I then wandered over to Maltby Street Market, which brings me to this moment, right now. I am sitting in St. John Maltby drinking a very delicious espresso and eating a tiny little lemon tart that while small, really packs a citrusy punch.

The manager has shown me to my table. He seems rather shocked that I am alone “just you?” He says “for one, really?” I really don’t see how it’s shocking, this is me time. Frankly I find his attitude irritating, but he’s also a little bit charming, so I just say “yep, (dude) can I get a menu and borrow a pen?”

I’m told that the menu is on the blackboard, which in the absence of my glasses looks like a shades of grey blob, so I ask for an espresso and something sweet. “Lemon tart?” he asks. Sure, why not?

A few minutes later the most delicious tangy little darling of a tart lands in front of me, the crust is short and crumbles in my mouth and both sweet and sour do a dance on my palate. My espresso is the perfect accompaniment. It’s so delicious that I, the sugar fiend, barely use any, and is the perfect foil to balance the richness of the lemon.

The restaurant itself is quite bustley but further to the back I am in my own serene little bubble and while my need for coffee is sated, my want to try the food is not. The tart was delicious, but it wasn’t a meal. I decide to make up for that by taking a Spiced apple jam donut away with me . I know, no self control.

St. John restaurant is on my list of places to try. Next time though, I’ll remember to bring my glasses.