My morning cuppa’s been getting some good press lately: Last week she was featured as a preventive for diabetes and then the papers reported that a cup a day keeps memory loss at bay!
Ha! And to all those people who’ve stared at me as I sip my daily addiction do I hold such cuttings up, though I’ve never needed to bolster or sustain my deep love and bonding for my cup that cheers through press or scientific reasoning!.
“What do you have when you return from your morning walk?” I ask my friends.
“Gallons of water!” says one.
“Yeah water replenishes the sweat you’ve lost,” says another, “and you?”
“My morning cup of coffee!” I sigh.
Very often during the walk I’m joined by friends and neighbours laughing, joking and taking about events that have happened the day before on matters pertaining to football, cricket, politics or other stuff men love to chatter about. I become a little quiet after a while and suddenly the group whispers and looks at me, “Bob?” they ask, “working on your next piece?” I smile and say nothing. How do you tell this bunch of warm, friendly goodnatured fellows that you’re just waiting to leave their company, that all their banter and jesting cannot replace the temptress waiting at home!
Sizzling hot, seductively sweet, whose aroma you sniff in anticipation, taste buds drooling with longing.
Ah my morning cup of coffee!
Not a day can I live without her. I remember years ago as a bachelor I had to make a choice between her and another; prettier, and more shapely, a damsel from the deep south she was! “What do you love,” she asked, “Coffee, tea or me?”
“My coffee!” I said and did I see disappointment in her adoring eyes.
“I make good tea!”
“Tea?” I asked disappointed and somehow our relationship never went farther and sometimes when I do think of the choice I made, I pat myself and whisper there was no choice at all was there?
And yet one day I walked away from my seductive temptress. It was at Milan Airport a few years ago: “What will you have sir?” asked the busy waitress as I sat alone. “Coffee!” I said.
“Which coffee?” she asked and throwing a menu on my table, hurried away.
“Which coffee!” I stared at the card. There was Caffe Latte! Expresso! Caffe Macha! Cappucino! There was Breve and Café Cito! And there was Granita! And also Café Americano and Expresso Romano!”
I sighed as the card stared mockingly back at me, “Choose Bob!” it said, “between us!”
I couldn’t. How could I be disloyal to any one of them.
The waitress came back, “Have you chosen?” she asked.
“Tea! I said weakly, and glanced away from the mocking card..!
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