11 May - coffee rejects
Today I wish for an assistant, someone else who can write my diary for me.
The only good thing about the day is the reassuring click of computers turning on, what would we do w/o them. So I will indulge in a mini-rant.
There is absolutely no point in drinking what passes for coffee in the proliferation of chains around town and what of that age-old saying ‘less is more’? The portions on offer are ridiculous. We don’t eat 20” pizzas or an entire chicken by ourselves, so why drink a pint of cappuccino or even half a pint? Italians invented the mixture, it’s not called cappuccino when it’s topped with a pint of milk. It’s something else, go find another name and whilst you are at it, please make sure you spell it always with two p’s and two c’s. Jeez, it’s not that hard. I realised how bad things had got today when I had a coffee in the Monmouth coffee house by London Bridge. I nearly spat out my java as it was far too strong. Then I took another sip and thought, ‘It’s not too strong, it’s right in fact, but we’ve got used to that weak shit in Starbucks!’ (which I boycott usually and when I have no other option I buy and then empty half the cup in the nearest drain - liquid gold indeed at that inflated price).
I wonder if I’ll feel the same way if/when I meet the next (hopefully final) man of my life - an initial strong rejection, before I will recognise that he is the right fuel/taste/blend, only his predecessors had confused my palate.
I wonder = the most overused thought in my head.
The only good thing about the day is the reassuring click of computers turning on, what would we do w/o them. So I will indulge in a mini-rant.
There is absolutely no point in drinking what passes for coffee in the proliferation of chains around town and what of that age-old saying ‘less is more’? The portions on offer are ridiculous. We don’t eat 20” pizzas or an entire chicken by ourselves, so why drink a pint of cappuccino or even half a pint? Italians invented the mixture, it’s not called cappuccino when it’s topped with a pint of milk. It’s something else, go find another name and whilst you are at it, please make sure you spell it always with two p’s and two c’s. Jeez, it’s not that hard. I realised how bad things had got today when I had a coffee in the Monmouth coffee house by London Bridge. I nearly spat out my java as it was far too strong. Then I took another sip and thought, ‘It’s not too strong, it’s right in fact, but we’ve got used to that weak shit in Starbucks!’ (which I boycott usually and when I have no other option I buy and then empty half the cup in the nearest drain - liquid gold indeed at that inflated price).
I wonder if I’ll feel the same way if/when I meet the next (hopefully final) man of my life - an initial strong rejection, before I will recognise that he is the right fuel/taste/blend, only his predecessors had confused my palate.
I wonder = the most overused thought in my head.
posted by Lisa Taylor @ 7:14 AM
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