This is what the weekend is for. I’m almost tempted to put the heating on but I’ve got the blanket and it’s still only October. But that was a week. I had no clue how tired I would feel at the end of it all but last night I slept like a rock and I remembered to switch off my 5am alarm. Misty would have been sad as it is her special time when Boo is asleep where she can run around and pretend she runs the place. Most of this week she has been demonstrating all her toys at crack of dawn to me while I’m trying to establish how much coffee it is possible to put into my face in an hour.
But today, nothing. I’m off to see Lou tomorrow but she knew I would be recovering today. Suddenly I’ve discovered all sorts of bruises. My foot. My arm. One of my shoulders. The Julius Caesar back. It is all a little less… young than it was ten years ago. I feel worked out.
So I stayed in bed as long as humanly possible this morning. Got up to make coffee but until about eleven that was the plan and then I didn’t have any milk so I wandered up the sunny road to Heidi and bought a Croque Monsieur and a coffee to have outside in the sunshine. Opportunities to do that are running out and sure enough by three o’clock the early sun was buried in cloud and the ice wind was blowing in the promise of winter. I quickly ran across town in Bergman to help Siwan move a ladder. Didn’t want to but I owe her a favour or three. My whole conversation was about how I didn’t feel very well, just because I’m tired. But the ladder got moved to museum street and I paid the Congestion Charge. Then back back back home, with a brief stop near Monmouth Street. I wandered to Monmouth Coffee. Everyone always mentions that place first. There was a queue six long sticking out the door. I immediately switched out of the whole idea of it.
Nothing is that much better than everything else. There are dozens of places that roast their own beans within two minutes walk of Monmouth without a queue like that. But right now the received idea is that Monmouth is the best which pretty much automatically precludes it from actually being the best, by default. And I suckered in. Like when we all bought into Google being the best browser and it experimented with how shit it could get before we noticed. Popularity + demand + capitalism = shortcuts. It’s why I won’t drink Starbucks. Those poor worldwide beans must have had a foul chemical existence and be as far from nature as anything can be and still taste of something.
So I’m back home without any coffee beans for tomorrow morning cos I didn’t want to risk a queue while I was parked in a loading bay. And I’m gonna get into bed with the blanket on and wait until one of the cats catches on and joins me. And there’s enough coffee for tomorrow, from a little independent roaster in Shepherds Bush. And all is well.
AlBarclay 