Cappuccinos in The Salt Pig

The Salt Pig is a fairly new establishment for sleepy Wareham - (although the town is wakening up with a new Sainsburys and sleek people in four wheel drives) - an eatery supplementing The Granary by the river, with its views of the river meadows and trim ferry boats in summer, up from Poole - the Black Bear, a coaching inn, dating from the 18th century, with its dark maze of rooms and corridors, its heady scent of serious ale - even Nellie Crumb, with its bay window and huge stone fireplace - 

It is a pleasure, nonetheless, to sit here - in the said Salt Pig - secure in my white rug and pension, reading The Independent like a world statesman, sipping cappuccino - especially so with friends or family -

I can touch the flagstones underfoot - marvel at the glistening fish in the window, coiled on crushed ice which looks like outsized salt crystals - 

I can snarf big meals of roast lamb or beef, all of the ingredients - meat, cabbage, potatoes, swede, onions - locally sourced - look up at the blackboard, with its map of the Isle of Purbeck, with the names of villages and places that were once just indifferent names on a map for me - 

I can see, too, looking out of the window, all the characters of the town I am now familiar with, having left the world of meetings, trajectories and action plans - 

I can feel a new life starting for me here - yet I know my heart will continue to be rent with indignation at the dreary cruelty and malice of the world -