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And so, the end has come...
Hunt and Darton Week 3
Day 11 – Wednesday 18th March
I got to the café late afternoon and was delighted to see Holly Darton was back. After the disappointment of Sunday I needed a lift.
Dave had agreed to come and meet me for Unhappy Hour and ordered the roast sandwich – a beast of a snack consisting of three huge slices of bread (the middle one soaked in gravy) with a filling of roasted veg and your choice of either chicken, beef or nut roast.
During Unhappy Hour Hunt delivered poetry from her ‘It’s a Shitter’ series and Darton discussed living with her mother-in-law. Towards the end of the evening Hunt and Darton both changed into a costume from one of their earliest performance together. Their identical outfits consisted of a one-piece swimming costume (flowery pattern on centre panel) underneath a pair of jodhpurs, and a pair of half-wellies. They then proceeded to reenact the performance together, which involved a sequence of thrusting movements combined with text.
Afterwards Dave said, ‘It made me think, why can’t all cafés be like this?’ and I said, ‘I know. That’s exactly what I thought when I first came here’.
Day 12 – Thursday 19th March
On Thursday it was social media day, which meant that you had to order everything using twitter and then Instagram your food and drink. I sat on table three and ordered a Tunnocks tea cake and some tea.
Sat on table two was Rachel Dobbs from Low Profile, who is taking over from Holly Darton tomorrow. Rachel and I have Plymouth in common, so I started with that, and did that ridiculous thing of being a bit over-excited about meeting her.
For this week, Hunt and Darton have had a general costume change, with broccoli headdresses instead of pineapple. Their dresses are also made from a broccoli fabric; it’s important that the fruit to be used has a matching fabric. Hunt explained, ‘Broccoli is a super-food’ and that pineapples were initially decided upon because of their glorious shape and their excellent plume of leaves, but it turns out their relevance runs deeper with symbolism connected to hospitality, rarity, richness and theatricality. The café is all of these things.
Day 13 – Friday 20th March
On entering I realised it was sexy day because of the torso aprons and, of course, a new penis cake – already the balls had been eaten. I sat with Martin (the man who asked Hunt to marry him last week) on table six.
As it was sexy day, Hunt and Rachel Darton were asking customers for song suggestions that were either about sex or that made you feel sexy. Over on table two a young couple suggested ‘my neck, my back’, a remix of an early noughties song about cuntilingus layered onto the Thomas the Tank Engine theme.
As the song played out in the café, the guy on table four turned around to us and said, ‘my mother’s coming to meet me in a minute’. I laughed, and felt his embarrassment, and hoped that she wouldn’t walk in whilst this song was still on.
The next hour passed quickly with Martin telling me all about the National Fairground Archive in Sheffield and asking me whether I’d like to go with him back to Macclesfield. ‘Sorry, no’ I said, ‘I’ve got a life here in Manchester’. Throughout the night Martin kept looking over at Hunt and Darton and then turning to me to say, ‘they’ll be gone next week, I’m going to miss them’. ‘Me too’, I replied.
During Unhappy Hour Hunt recreated her MA performance, which involved fashioning a seesaw out of a café sign and a bowl and then placing a glass on one end. Hunt then had to stand with a bottle of wine in one hand, stamp down on the other end of the seesaw and try to catch the glass with her free hand as it was sent into the air. If she caught it she then had to fill the glass with wine and drink it in one.
After several smashed glasses, Hunt opened up the challenge to customers, and Rachel Darton selected the Benny Hill theme as backing track. I am constantly impressed by how open people are and how unpredictable the café is.
The night ended with table four guy’s mother singing an amazing karaoke version of Total Eclipse of the Heart.
Day 14 – Saturday 21st March
I planned two visits to the café today, one to meet Rachel in the afternoon, and one later on. Rachel and I sat on table one – my first time in the window. We drank tea whilst waiting for Max’s chocolate orange cake to be finished, and talked about how the café is read by people passing on the high street.
From the outside it looks like a trendy pop-up café, and once you’re inside the vintage furniture and mismatched cups and saucers could equally belong in a quirky Northern Quarter coffee shop. Even the cardboard signs – perhaps a nod to the typical contemporary theatre prop and in keeping with the overall low-fi aesthetic – could be a design choice in a contemporary culture valorising ‘make do and mend’, recycling and the idiosyncrasies of the made-at-home and hand-written.
The look and feel really invites you in and then you quickly realise you’re not in Kansas anymore. It’s like a portal to another world. And in all the times I’ve visited it’s clear how much people are willing to experience it, to take a chance and to play along.
Music is a central part of the lure of the café. The Sugarhill Gang draws in an unlikely group of teenagers who, on entering, quickly realised it wasn’t an ordinary café. They gladly took badges and left.
Later on I came back for Unhappy Hour and met Martin again. We sat on table five, and he bought me a bottle of Becks. Mark was the guest waiter tonight. Martin kept referring to Mark as my boyfriend. ‘He’s not my boyfriend, he’s someone I met here a few days ago’ I say. Martin was having nothing of it. ‘Tell your boyfriend to come over here’. The evening ended with more glass smashing and karaoke.
Day 15 – Sunday 22nd March
Today it was ‘austerity day’, so the usual pineapple table decorations had been replaced with potatoes. Instead of a cake table full of different options, each plate was piled with Blue Riband biscuits, and Hunt asked customers to consider their purchases carefully, she suggested, ‘perhaps you could share a pot of tea?’
In a strange case of synchronicity, a lady walked in from the street and started asking the customers on table one for money. Hunt quickly noticed what was happening and diverted the woman’s attention away from them to deal with the situation herself.
‘If I give her some money’, said Hunt, ‘it’s not the end of the relationship’. ‘You have to be careful about the culture you’re creating in the café’, and she told me about an incident that had happened in one of the earlier pop-ups in a different city where a group of homeless people had begun visiting regularly. One day a fight broke out between members of the group during which one man was badly injured.
As I sit and think about austerity in the café and in the UK as a whole, I reflect on how much richness, friendliness and entertainment is in these simple interactions between people (often strangers), talking, laughing, dancing and singing in this place.
Day 16 – Wednesday 25th March ‘Christmas Day’
Apparently whenever the café is open on the 25th of the month it becomes Christmas Day. As I approached I noticed a Christmas tree in the window, and on opening the door, the sound of Christmas carols. The café was quite full and sat at each table were people with cardboard signs around their necks. In front of me on table three was ‘wise man (myrrh)’, whilst over on table five Mark as ‘Jesus’ was sat opposite a woman as ‘shepherd’. As he left, ‘wise man (myrrh)’ handed me his sign – ‘you can be the wise man now’, he said.
I sat down with a woman called Catherine on table four, who had come wearing a Christmas jumper, which was very impressive. Hunt and Darton had been running a day-long Christmas quiz, which I joined in with. Today’s Darton was new and I don’t remember her first name.
As we moved in to unhappy hour, which was themed on unhappy Christmas memories, I was impressed with new Darton’s brilliant array of hilarious family Christmas stories.
The evening ended with more MA performance glass smashing/drinking and a rendition of Down Town by Petula Clark, with the phrase ‘down town’ changed to ‘Hunt and Dar-ton’, which worked surprisingly well.
I didn’t see Martin, but Tamsin said he’d been in earlier. I will miss him. In my conversations with him, Martin had always likened the café to a fairground or circus troup, moving from one city to another, bringing a magical experience that would suddenly disappear one morning. ‘It’s show business’, he would say.
I agree, the café is a lot like a circus, but as much in the place name sense of the term as anything else. For example, the circus in ‘Piccadilly Circus’, means a place in which several streets converge. Hunt and Darton café was for me a place were a range of different people converge, and not in the pseudo-social sense where we’re all together as strangers; together in an anonymous fashion. The café is where you quickly become part of a shared space, and make connections with other people.
After tonight Hunt and Darton will be gone. They will next be popping up in Folkstone, Kent; I’m really tempted to follow.
Dani Abulhawa on balancing the demands of work life with loyalty...
Day
5 – Monday 9th March
On Mondays and Tuesdays the café is closed, but that doesn’t mean it fails to occupy public consciousness – quite the contrary, as I hope this week’s blog will show. I live in Manchester, but I work in Sheffield. When I got to the station on Monday morning, I had a little bit of time to kill and a runny nose (having cycled particular fast).
I went in to the Boots shop at the train station to buy my regular purchase of a packet of tissues, and when I went to pay, the woman who served me said, ‘that’s an interesting helmet’ and pointed to my shiny gold cycling helmet attached to the straps of my bag. ‘Yes’, I replied, and was about to give my usual speech about how it renders me very visible on the road when the woman interrupted and exclaimed, ‘Oh! I recognise you; were you in the café the other day?’ Instantly I recognised her as Alpen woman.
She told me how much she had enjoyed visiting the café, on a whim, and how unexpected the whole experience was. She had just finished a long shift at Boots when her husband suggested they go and have a drink at what they thought was a standard pop-up café.
She had spoken to her colleagues and her boss about the café, and mentioned that her boss was planning on conducting a meeting with some people from head office in there, as a surprise. I really hope I’m in there when that happens.
Day 6 and 7 – Wednesday 11th March and Thursday 12th March
Despite my best attempts, I didn’t manage to get to the café at all on Wednesday and Thursday. Work really gets in the way of tea and cake, and art. But, I thought about the café and Hunt and Darton frequently. I wondered whether Alpen lady’s boss had had his meeting? I wondered who was sat in my seat, drinking from my previous cups – the ghost of my lips meeting theirs.
Day 8 – Friday 13th March
I managed to get back from work with half an hour left of Friday’s unhappy hour. The lights were dimmed and the café tables were full, whilst Lowri Evans and Sara Cocker conducted a game of age concerns bingo.
I sat with John at the back of the café and waited for my age to be called out. ’27, 80, 34, 8, 19, 32’, ‘Yes!’ I shouted, at the same time as another woman across the café from me. Lowri asked me to tell her about something that is less good now I’m 32 than it was before. ‘I don’t seem to be able to recover very well from drinking too much anymore’, I said.
As closing time approached, Lowri and Sara, and Hunt and Darton began an impromptu karaoke to ‘Let’s Dance’ by David Bowie and the rest of us danced and clapped along. Hunt and Darton contacted the real Darton (who was at home celebrating her birthday) and we sang her happy birthday via FaceTime.
A man appeared suddenly from upstairs (I think it was the chef). I felt like I’d seen something I wasn’t supposed to, like the wings, or backstage.
As I paid for my coffee I was given the final stamp on my loyalty card. Hunt gasped and said that I was to be rewarded. I laughed, nervously. Hunt and Darton took me outside and both got down on one knee (are they going to ask me to marry them? I thought). With outstretched ‘jazz hands’ they grinned wildly and produced a badge reading ‘LOYAL’. Darton explained that I should wear it at all times when visiting the café, and Hunt said that I would now be treated very differently.
Day 9 – Saturday 14th March
I had to go in to work, so I vowed that I would get back in time for at least unhappy hour. I turned up to the café at about 5.15 and ordered a trio of sandwiches and my usual coffee. I was sat on Alpen lady’s table – in her seat – so I was quite close to the cakes. The guest waitress today was the wonderful Eirini Kartsaki, who sashayed from table to table administering massage, talking and dancing with patrons.
By the time my sandwiches had arrived – beautiful sandwich rectangles in a Jenga configuration (with the crusts off) – I had already been seduced away from savoury by a chocolate cake. So, I ordered a slice and something from the performance set menu titled ‘Africa’. Africa combined the poise and visual attention of a meerkat with the rhythm of a gazelle and the pace of a giraffe. I highly recommend this dish.
Later on, Martin the regular arrived, followed by Hunt’s Dad and step-Mum who sat with me at Alpen lady’s table. We talked about the difference between Manchester and Cambridge.
As the day turned in to evening and unhappy hour arrived things got stranger and more wonderful. The lights were dimmed, the microphone was on. Eirini spoke softly and lustfully of lost love on public transport, whilst others relayed disappointments of a more pedestrian nature. At the back of the café a young couple relaxing after a busy day shopping spoke of their unhappiness over a missed purchase of a designer handbag. Fortunately Hunt and Darton were on hand to convert their paper Zara bag into something more fancy.
In the midst of unhappy hour there was an interruption. Martin got up from his seat and asked Hunt’s dad for her hand in marriage (getting down on one knee himself). Hunt’s Dad declined on the grounds that he felt it would make Hunt very unhappy.
Day 10 – Sunday 15th March
Unhappy hour.
I agreed to visit Derby with Dave on the proviso that he would go with me to the café at the end of the day (he is a little uncertain about the idea of a performance café).
We got back at 6.30 only to realise that the café had shut at 5pm.
I liked the look of the empty café, chair legs poking upwards.
I couldn’t even take a picture because my battery had died.
Artist and academic Dani Abulhawa has challenged herself to try and visit the café everyday - here are her thoughts... keep reading to see if she makes it!
Day 1 – Thursday 5th March
I entered tentatively, unsure of what to expect and was greeted with a kind hello by two women wearing pineapple fascinators on their heads. “Are you taking-away or staying?”
I ordered a coffee, was asked to take and seat and told that it would be brought to me. I chose a two-person table against the wall and sat facing the door, adjacent to a couple who were at either end of bigger table, one eating a bowl of Alpen and the other tucking into a meat roll. The woman eating Alpen was familiar to me, but I couldn’t put my finger on how I knew her.
My coffee was served in a big circular cup with hearts all over it and a saucer. The milk was in a little jug in the shape of a cottage.
There was a very inviting table of cakes and several large chalk boards against the wall detailing things like, ‘breakages’, ‘takings’, ‘complaints’, and ‘covers’.
I was asked if I wanted to choose the next record to play and picked an exercise record by – I think – Jane Fonda.
On the tables were instructions for ordering, getting the attention of Hunt and Darton and rules of tea-drinking etiquette. There were also instructions for games you can play with the food.
When I paid I was given a loyalty card and received my first pineapple stamp.
This place is a bit out-of-the-ordinary, but still a working cafe peppered with absurdity, and then there are sudden moments of arrest, for example the moment when Hunt and Darton got up and stood in the centre of two tables (one of which was occupied by patrons) and performed a short signaling routine at each other across the café.
I thought about the fine line between ordinary café and theatrical performance that this project treads, and then I thought about how much of ‘ordinary’ life is also treading this line.
Day 2 – Friday 6th March
After getting back from work to Manchester train station, I decided to pop in again at the café. It was sexy day.
Hunt and Darton and the other people working in the café (whose names I don’t know yet) were all wearing aprons with naked torsos on them, and with a hole in the area around the crotch. Hunt mentioned that she liked these aprons because there was an ambiguity about the torso’s gender.
As it was sexy day there were two stand-out options on the cake table; one was a giant penis-shaped layer cake, complete with icing ejaculation, and the other was a tray of glorious pink nipple cakes (with cherries for nipples). I went for the penis, and in particular a slice from the balls end.
As I sat eating it, I struggled a bit, not able to completely shake the idea of eating actual penis from the cake penis I was eating – you eat with your eyes. How much of the pleasure of eating, I wondered, is actually based on thoughts about the dish?
Day 3 – Saturday 7th March
I had completely forgotten that today was Pigeon Theatre’s take-over of the café, so not only did I get two cups of coffee and the biggest glass of chocolate and banana Nesquik, I also got to do some smell identification and memory tasks with Pigeon’s Anna Fenemore and Gillian Knox.
I was pleased to hear that the penis cake had been completely sold out. I was keen to find out which end people had gone for. Apparently the balls end was the most popular and I had a good discussion with Hunt and Darton in which we hypothesised the findings. The balls were covered in chocolate shavings, and constituted the bigger part of the cake, so we decided there wasn’t much scope for a psychoanalytic reading of people’s choices.
Today, my table had the delightful Scots Guard Captain and Bear ornaments, complete with green snooker-table tablecloth.
Day 4 – Sunday 8th March
I had a very short window for a trip to the café today.
I ordered a coffee and said I would like a piece of the Oreo cake that had been dutifully made after a young girl requested it the day before. As it was ‘You Do It Day’ I served myself.
Whilst I was there, a friend happened to come in with someone I didn’t know. I ended up sitting with them around the table that Alpen lady and her husband had been sat on earlier in the week.
Every time I’ve been in the café someone I know has been there. It’s strange, but then the café caters for both the geographically situated community of Manchester city centre (near the train station) as well as the performance/art/festival community who are more dispersed.
The mug I was given was in the shape of a large mouse head. I think it may have been the same mug that Alpen lady’s husband was drinking from, which was odd since I was also sat in his seat.
I kept thinking about one of the signs in the café on the wall. It reads ‘semi-socially engaged’. I like the way it comments upon an arts/performance jargon and suggests that the café adopts an undefined status as ‘socially engaged’, not proclaiming a particular kind of social efficacy or smugness.
