But back to the Albion. The Beatnik's Albion. Hm.
No one was inside. No one really seemed to care. I suppose that would be the best way to characterise this place. No one cares. No one is trying to sell you anything. No one is contemplating ways of getting you out when you stay for too long to make space for another customer. No menus on the tables. No price lists. No 'Can I help you?', or 'Anything else?'.
I browse through the bookshelves for a while, picking up some Fitzgerald, putting it back remembering that I will already hate myself when I try to drag my suitcase back home. (Giving it another thought now, what difference does one book make? I might come back for that book.)
'Can I have some coffee please?', I ask when I spot someone coming in from a back room.
'Weak or strong? It makes no difference.'
I thought I can't have come up with a better explanation of what the place is like than those two sentences I got as an answer.
the Albion Beatnik bookstore
34 Walton St, Oxford
(I will not bother to write any opening hours, because the ones I had found on the internet betrayed me in the past. I would say it is general opening hours, and the place is worth trying your luck.)