Warm, golden light permeated the building, creating a feeling of comfort and homliness. The pastries lining the window and the counter were practically begging to be eaten, oozing with cream and chocolate and glazed fruit. I breathed in deeply, savouring the sugary sweetness in the air, whetting my appetite for the forbidden delicacies. Deciding my waistline really didn’t need the extra calories, even if my mouth wanted them, I ordered a cappuccino and looked around at the customers. People watching was one of my favourite activities; I could spend hours in a coffee house just watching the world go by. I took in the group of three elderly ladies, huddled in their giant coats, each with a tea and a slice of lemon, sharing a bowl of sticky profiteroles. Two young mothers, immaculately skinny in their designer jeans, blazers, and impossibly high heels, gossiped over giant mugs of black coffee. I smiled to myself, knowing that cup was the only thing those two would be ingesting all day. A businessman in a pinstriped suit was gobbling down a croque monsieur in the corner whilst frantically typing on his Blackberry, and a group of art students sat outside on the pavement, as close as possible to the portable gas heater, smoking Marlboro lights and savouring a few giant pieces of chocolate gateau between them.