Stirring up memories

There is a disadvantage to having such a famous name as Bewley's of Grafton Street, with all the responsibilities it holds for the generations of memories that are contained within it. People tend to be proprietorial about institutions, and Bewley's definitely is an institution. When such places undergo changes, no matter how necessary or well done they are, one thing is inevitable: not everyone will be happy.

In common with the many people who've frequented the Grafton Street branch over the years, I've read stacks of newspapers, partially-solved a lot of crosswords, and talked very many donkeys into disability there. And I clocked up a lot of caffeine.

Ah, the coffee: that distinctive bitter brew which had at least as many dissenters as it had fans. Years ago, I stopped drinking the coffee altogether and went for Lapsang tea instead. But I still loved the atmosphere of Bewley's, even though sometimes it seemed too frustratingly chaotic: stuffy, dimly-lit, and occasionally verging on the claustrophobic.

The flagship Grafton Street cafe is due to re-open fully on Monday, having undergone a radical refurbishment during the summer, described by management as a "facelift". The main area of the cafe, the Harry Clarke Room, has been open for some weeks now, and is waitress-service only. Opening next week will be a revamped Mezzanine, and James Joyce Room, as well as two entirely new spaces; the Museum Room, and the Atrium Cafe.

So what's the Grafton Street cafe like now, £4 million later? If I didn't know what it was like before, I'd love it. That's the dilemma Bewley's is going to find itself in: dealing with herds of elephants like me. Put it this way. You can now have dinner at Bewley's. And that's not, definitely not, dinner of the fried variety. The comprehensive wine-list includes aperitifs of Kir Royale at £7.95 a go.

Twice last week, I spent a couple of hours sitting in the new-look Harry Clarke Room, absorbing the changes and getting soundings from those at tables near me. The room has been exceptionally well redesigned and the result is a very beautiful interior, part 1920s, part 1990s, with Harry Clarke's famous incandescent windows still glowing on the back wall. There are new tub armchairs and green marble-topped tables.

The place is airy and bright and there's a feeling of uncluttered serenity the old cafe rarely had, partly due to the fact that there are now far less tables than before. The dark Oriental wallpaper has gone. The walls have been painted various colours: one is burnt orange, one is dark-red, one is sienna. Throughout the cafe are some striking paintings by recent art-college graduates; a collection which will change every year, in a clever combination of philanthropy and investment by Bewley's.

I sat under the Harry Clarke windows and wasn't quite sure where I was. Not a lot of things looked familiar. Even the coffee tasted different. And there was an alien sight at the door, a queue. By the time all the various rooms open next week and more seats become available, they may have sorted out the problem of the queue, which everybody I spoke to loathed. The Irish definitely don't possess the queueing gene.

I was just looking around at the stained glass windows again to remind myself of where I was, when a familiar face materialised at my table. It was Dervilla Masterson, an old friend whom I hadn't seen for two years. It was her first time in the new cafe.

"All I can think is, what's going to happen at Christmas?" Dervilla said, joining me. "This is where everyone meets for coffee and does all the catching up. But I can't see that happening here now." We looked around us. She was right. The new layout doesn't seem designed to allow chairs to commute to another table, to accommodate ever-growing, ad-hoc groups that used to gather on Saturdays, let alone the court-holding sessions at Christmas.

Three sisters from Kilrush in Co Clare were sitting at the next table, Margaret Clancy, Frances Kelly and Eileen O'Donovan, with their American cousin, Mona. "Well, it's more restaurant orientated now, isn't it?" commented Eileen. "It's lovely, though. It's very comfortable," offered Frances, from deep within her armchair.

Then Margaret looked around the room, frowning slightly. "The place is lovely, but it's missing out on something," she mused. The frown deepened. Margaret scanned the room again. "That's it," she said suddenly, turning back to us. "You used to see all sorts of people in here. That's what I liked. Looking at all the different people. Everyone looks the same here now, somehow."

To me, the essence of the Grafton Street Bewley's has always been the thoroughfare of its main downstairs area. The question I most wanted to know was, you can have a posh dinner there and a choice of four champagnes, but can you still drop in for 10 minutes to have tea and a sticky bun?

According to John Atkinson, the recently-appointed marketing manager at Grafton Street, you can. But a friend of mine who went there last week for that exact reason told of being asked in the queue if she was eating or not. When she said she was there only for coffee, she was redirected to one of high stools at the street entrance.

The reality would appear to be that an informal coffee can only happen whenever there is a free table in between the formal breakfast, lunch and dinner sittings. "We'll try to accommodate you elsewhere within the cafe, once it's all open, if you are just there for coffee," John says.

After leaving the Grafton Street branch, I went and walked around the Westmoreland cafe. The atmosphere was totally different. I felt at home. There was a range and eclectism to the people there that Margaret Clancy had noticed was missing in Grafton Street. There were children, old ladies, groups of huddled young people, a couple cuddling in a booth, a tramp, two nuns, some dysfunctional-looking folk, men in suits eating fries, a family looking at photographs. At least 30 people were reading newspapers or books, several were writing: notes, letters, postcards. It struck me that I hadn't seen any newspapers being read or any writing being done in Grafton Street. It hadn't had that settled-in feeling.

There are plans afoot to refurbish the Westmoreland Street branch also. Work will commence next year. Go and see Grafton Street for yourself and make up your own mind whether you like it or not, because that's what you'll get next year in Westmoreland Street.

Bewley's has certainly has had a much-needed face-lift, but such is the extent of the changes that it would be more accurate to describe them as open-heart surgery.