Khazi Cafe In Bradwell In The Peak District
We found it, finally, and felt flushed with success. Having parked by the Beggars Plot, we walked into Bradwell along rows of cottages built of limestone rubble. They looked cosy but the reference to rubble always seems, well, unstable. Then, looking down left from our lofty road, we saw the pissoir, more a cluster of cubicles. People were outside, licking ices and discussing why the gents toilets were now an ice cream parlour. The outside seating looked over Bradwell Brook, a joyous outflow from Bagshawe Cavern up the hill. It’s a sparkling cistern of pure water supporting gorgeous white water crowfoot, all in flower, like a moist, roadside garland. The Khazi Cafe in Bradwell in the Peak District is a little gem. You could even call it a real convenience.
I imagined placing my order, the prices all displayed in pees. “What flavour would you like?” “I’ll have the Strawberry Dump, please.” “One poop or two?” “I think number two sounds fine.” ” Would you like anything dribbling over that?” “No thanks, but I’ll have a couple of those Khazi tissues, please, to contain the drips.” I walked outside, cone in one hand and checking my flies with the other. There was no throne so we sat on the wall, looking down on the brook. The trickling water sent wet pulses to my bladder, but there was nowhere to go! We licked the ice, lick after lick, but something stopped me sucking my fingers.
Khazi Cafe in Bradwell
Bradwell is an old mining village, but famous for its ice cream. All we need now is weather fit for eating it. As to that, I have a personal interest as the village is due to become our home. More about that in the future. As a resident, the line, “Do you want to go to the khazi” is likely to become a byword. It will be a piddling short walk.