I Get Comments: Thanks for the Laugh


maxresdefaultI posted a eulogy to the Dunn Bros Coffee shop in my lowly town and a reader by the handle of blf left the following comment, which gave me a good chuckle:

Weirdly, when I lived in the States, I tended to drink tea — even though most USAliens have no idea how to make the stuff — at least until I moved to Santa Cruz, where it’s illegal to be more than c.10 metres from a coffee shop. Then I discovered espresso.

So in England, I drank coffee. Despite the English having a clew how to make tea. And espresso being, initially, at the time, a weird foreign thing…

In France, where it is again illegal to be more than a few metres from a cafe, moar espresso! So the typical day is: Get up. Stumble towards the the nearest cafe. Realize I forget to put clothes on and stumble back… Stumble back, dressed. Have a croissant and a café. Stumble slightly less to the cafe. Café. Walk more-or-less upright to the bus terminal. Vending-machine pseudo-café. With a foul taste in the mouth and fully awake, wish the bus had a pissoir. Arrive near work, which is slightly closer than the cafe. And has a WC. Relived, get first espresso in the break room. Sit down at desk, get up, and go back to the WC. (Repeat…)

And then there’s the vin

Now I want to move to France.

Comments

  1. blf says

    Today, Saturday, was a variant on the usual routine. I managed to get to the early-morning organic open-air market slightly before noon, dressed, and containing only one espresso. Since the vendors were starting to pack up at this point, this was not exactly a success.

    So had a cappuccino instead. Then wobbled toward the bus terminal to go someplace (not yet decided) and get breakfastlunch. Managed to avoid the vending-machine pseudo-café, mostly due to trying to explain in borked Franglish I need to recharge my bus pass…

    Lunch at a nice place in the countryside, which sufficient confusion about the coffee — see borked Franglish — wound up with two cafés. And a limoncino. Added to the kir and the vin, meant the bus ride back to the village was, ah, “interesting”. (Did you know a double-decker bus could fly… upside down… accompanied by bright green walruses…?) Also a bit desperate, no pissoir — albeit was on the open top deck of the bus, so briefly wondered about “going over the side” — but decided it was bad idea to bother the walruses…

    Celebrated arriving back at the village with another café. And by not exploding.

    Oh, and the trick to drinking hot chocolate is to carefully position the cheese away (preferably far away). The mildly deranged penguin more reliably homes in on cheese than chocolate. And under no circumstances use chocolate cheesecake without special training!

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