I have spent today sick in bed with some kind of flu which I can only assume is due to the terrible weather. (It was 4 degrees this morning! FOUR! It's nearly June!) So I took the opportunity to do a bit of writing. So here it is, my ode to the delicious bean juice that is coffee. It's not perfect, but like any former Girl Guide, I did my best... Enjoy!
I do not remember the taste of my first ever cup of coffee, but I do remember spilling most of it down the front of my Space (remember them?) 1998 UK tour T-shirt. Perhaps not the most auspicious
beginning for a serious relationship that has continued now for over a
decade, but as somebody who spilled, and continues to spill, things on
herself on a fairly regular basis, nothing to actively discourage me on
my path to caffeine addiction.
I had decided, at the tender age of thirteen, slumped on the sofa watching my Il Postino
video for the tenth time, to become Italian. Being Italian, as far as I
could tell, really just involved eating pizza and pasta and drinking a
lot of coffee. Now, this was something that I could do. OK, I conceded,
Italians probably didn’t drink Nescafé Gold Blend from a mug shaped like
Winnie the Pooh’s head, but I was working with what I had available to
me at the time. Plus, I really liked Pizza.
