A letter in a copy of the Observer found in an overpriced sandwich shop in Piccadilly, referring to a debate on northern-ness which I missed. It made me laugh (short 'a'):
“Even ten years ago when I had a weekend job in my local tea shop in the Yorkshire Dales, the odd misguided day tripper would ask for a cappuccino. The tea shop owner, weary from a 6am start baking scones for ingrates, would mutter, 'I can do you a frothy coffee.'”