I went to the black and white café. It’s clean. It’s smart. They do the normal range of coffees, but a little cheaper that Starbucks or Costa. The waitress, Radcliffe friendly as usual, dropped my biscuit and got me another. She showed me to a bench seat which could have seated two, but not four and the view to the square was enchanting. The window framed it and its clock and bandstand complied with the golden segment.
“I like your decorations,” I said.
The Christmas tree, and the black and white ornaments hanging from it and the ceiling went well with the rest of the décor and the view outside.
“I had to fight to get that one,” said the waitress (manageress? owner?)
I won’t tell the rest of the story. That’s one to be developed later, but it will be a good read.
See, all sorts of things count as writerly research.