I thought visiting my old café would feel a bit like meeting an ex who’s doing just fine without you…
And in a way, it did — but honestly, I couldn’t be happier to see it taking its own new course while I do too.
I went with my friend Vicki and Heida while visiting the UK, and the moment we walked in, it all felt familiar — the same laughter, the same rhythm — just no longer mine. The coffee was still excellent, the familiar faces still warm, and that felt surprisingly good. Sitting there with my flat white (or three) and a couple of slices of Millionaire’s shortbread, I realised how ready I was to have moved on.
What began as a love story — of community, creativity, and caffeine — had simply run its course. Friendly Nettle is ready to step away from café life (at least for now) and dip its toes into something more creative.
Running a café taught me more than I ever expected — especially about what really makes a business work. I learned that profit matters; without it, even the busiest place slowly turns into a charity. I thought I was being frugal (some of my staff might say stingy 😅), but what I really needed were better systems. Efficiency is everything when every day is unpredictable.
I also learned that space can be both a gift and a trap — mine was far too big, and the play area far too much to manage. And I finally saw the difference between running a café and creating a space for creativity — they’re not the same thing. Along the way I learned patience, leadership, and the quiet art of trusting my instincts — especially when it was time to let go. I discovered I loved hosting experiences — clubs, workshops, and meet-ups — far more than the daily service rush.
Most importantly, I realised the pace that truly suits me is slower, more intentional, and more creative. And that a clear vision only stays clear if you stop trying to please everyone.
So, as Friendly Nettle moves away from café life and into a more creative path, my hope is that it continues to bring people together — through creativity, craftsmanship, and slow living. To inspire a return to making, sharing, and noticing life’s quieter joys. The café chapter may have closed, but the spirit behind it hasn’t gone anywhere; it’s simply changing form.
And if I ever opened another café one day, I think I’d tuck it into a library — a place already filled with stories and silence. Because what is a book without coffee? I’d bake more, teach more, create spaces for making and mending, and let conversations brew slowly — like a good sourdough.
Here’s to new beginnings (and one more flat white).
Rasa x