Marks And Spencer Will Close 14 In-store Cafés In 2026

So, picture this: it’s a drizzly Tuesday afternoon, you’ve just finished a slow meander around the homeware section, and you’re suddenly hit with a very specific craving. Not for anything wild—just a perfectly-buttered crumpet and a pot of English Breakfast tea that’s still steaming. For millions of us, that little ritual happens in an M&S café. That’s why news that Marks & Spencer will close 14 in-store cafés in 2026 feels like a slightly soggy scone landing on your plate. It’s not the end of the world, but… oof. It stings a bit.

Let’s be real: the M&S café is the unsung hero of the British high street. It’s not trying to be a fancy coffee shop with latte art and a playlist of obscure indie bands. No, it’s the reliable friend who always remembers you like your tea strong and your cake moist. You go there after a dentist appointment to reward yourself, or you drag your mum there for a catch-up when you’ve got fifteen minutes to spare. It’s the place where the queue moves at a pleasantly British pace—not too fast, not too slow, just enough time to eye up the Victoria sponge in the chiller.

Now, M&S says the closures are part of a “normal review” of their estate. They promise that these 14 cafés—spread across the UK—are being replaced or moved to bigger, better spots. But for the regulars at those specific stores, it’s like finding out your favourite park bench is being taken away. You know there are other benches, but that one had the perfect view of the biscuit aisle. It’s personal. It’s where you sat after a long, grey Monday and convinced yourself that a Percy Pig punnet was a balanced lunch.

Why should you really care?

Because these cafés are tiny community anchors. Think about it: where else can you grab a packet of shortbread, a pack of organic chicken thighs, and a flat white in the same 30-second walk? The M&S café is the glue between the shopping and the sanity. It’s where you see the same pensioner couple sharing a scone every Wednesday at 11am. It’s where a frazzled parent lets their toddler happily demolish a free babyccino while they try to remember their own name. Closing even one of those little corners chips away at the quiet, unglamorous places we all rely on.

I’ll be honest—I’ve had some of my most profound life moments in an M&S café. No, really. I once resolved a career crisis while staring at a cheesecake. I repaired a friendship over two cups of Earl Grey. I even wrote the first draft of a wedding speech on a napkin there. That’s not weird, is it? It’s just that the atmosphere is so neutral, warm, and unpretentious that your brain relaxes. You can hear the clink of teaspoons, the soft hum of the chiller, and the occasional “ooh, lovely” from a customer spotting a reduced-to-clear lemon drizzle. It’s a sensory hug.

The food is the real star

Let’s talk about the menu for a second. The M&S café is the king of the comfort classic. Their soup of the day comes with a bread roll that’s legitimately better than most restaurants serve. Their jacket potatoes are fluffier than a cloud. And the cakes? Don’t get me started on the Colin the Caterpillar slice. It’s the only cake that can make a 45-year-old accountant grin like a kid at a birthday party. If you haven’t had a prawn mayonnaise sandwich on malted bread at one of these counters, have you even lived?

But here’s the twist: M&S isn’t shutting all its cafés. They’re just trimming the fat (pun absolutely intended). In fact, they’re investing in bigger, newer café spaces in other locations. So this isn’t a eulogy—it’s more of a gentle warning. It’s a reminder that the things we take for granted—like a pit stop for a cuppa and a custard tart—can shift without much fanfare. So if you have a local M&S with a café, maybe swing by this week. Order a pot of tea, grab a thick slice of carrot cake, and just sit for a moment.

Because in 2026, if your store is one of the 14, that particular little ritual might vanish. And you’ll be left with a tiny hollow spot in your shopping routine. You’ll walk past the aisle where the café used to be, and it’ll feel like a missing tooth. You’ll have to find a new place for your rainy Tuesday crumpet. And that’s okay—new traditions are born all the time. But it’s worth saying goodbye properly while we still can.

So here’s to the M&S café. May your tea stay hot, your butter stay soft, and your scones always come with a generous dollop of clotted cream. And if you’re one of the people whose café is closing: we feel your pain. We really do. Just know that somewhere, in another M&S café, a stranger is raising their cup in solidarity.