BILL. Wullie. Liam. Billy. Will.
If you think about it, people called William are extremely lucky.
They have one of those adaptable names (Robert is another) which can be altered depending on how the mood takes them.
Feeling traditionally manful? They can refer to themselves as Bill. In an arty mood? Oh, today it’s Will. Visiting Frankfurt? Ich bin Wilhelm.
As if having a malleable moniker wasn’t enough, oor Wullies now have a café in Glasgow’s West End to call their own.
Café William is a place that does what it says on the tin, as long as the tin reads, “A cafe themed around the name William”.
As concepts for an eatery go, it’s as eccentric a one as Scone Spy has encountered.
What next, a carvery based on the name Bertha? A pancake house staffed by people called Neville?
With an open mind and, more importantly, an empty stomach, we wandered up Queen Margaret Drive to the coffee shop in question.
After all, it was probably just a name. What were we expecting – a wall covered in pictures of people called William?
Of course, that is precisely what we found. At first glance Café William is a cosy West End tearoom.
At second glance it’s a cosy West End tearoom with lots of amusing nods to Williams everywhere.
Along with Just William novels dotted around the shop, a wall is clad in portraits of famous and fictional Williams.
There’s the Big Yin, there’s the guy who plays Captain Kirk, and the cartoon boy who sits on a bucket whose name escapes me.
There’s that guy, you know him. He’s in Fargo and one of the Jurassic Parks. You know? HIM. Oh and there’s that other one. Irish and dead and does poems. No idea which ones.
Our fellow patrons are a mixture of families, grannies, students, and a few of their faithful hounds.
A nervous Rottweiler its owner calls Flora eyes us up before disappearing under a table.
The William motif left your Spy slightly baffled but, as the famous slogan nearly goes: keep calm and order a scone.
There isn’t any clotted cream, which is a crushing blow offset only by the fact Cafe William do their own jam.
It’s delightful, as is the scone itself – one of those fluffy big beauties shot through with succulent sultanas.
And is that a hint of coconut? Purists may balk, but purists are always wrong.
During a post-scone natter with the friendly young waitress, we enquire about this peculiar William theme. To be more precise…why?
“Not sure,” she ponders. “I think the owner’s wife likes the name. Maybe?”
With that we settle, fittingly, our bill.
Verdict
WARM WELCOME 8/10
LOCATION, LOCATION 9/10
SCONE SCORE 9/10
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