2012 — 7 June: Thursday
Greeted by grey drizzle this morning1 while my initial cuppa (tea) gives me time to ponder whether I have enough real coffee in the house for my honored guests this afternoon. Fresh, it most certainly isn't as I literally haven't bought a bean since before Christa's death. I could never get over the cognitive dissonance — freshly-roasted ground beans smell good enough to be orgasmic. But when turned into drinkable liquid form... not so much as a twitch.
But she liked the ghastly2 stuff, so we always had it on hand, and I have at least one sealed pack of ground beans in the back of a cupboard somewhere (having failed to palm it off on Junior).
Heck, I even have a grinder somewhere. But I'm still predicting another supplies run fairly soon this morning... I used the last of the filter paper while decanting my damson vodka / brandy a couple of years ago.
What goes around...
... in this case, my one-time 2nd-line manager (who, having long since given up running the IBM Hursley Lab was this morning to be found pushing a laden trolley in Waitrose) eventually comes around. I first bumped into him there back in May 2007.
Time for breakfast, before I unleash the cleaning and tidying demons. Or, at least, the clear-some-space in the living room minor demon. [Exhausted pause] Damn. If I continue like this, dear Mama's paperwork will be in much better shape than mine ever has been. I hate this domestic household administrivia. It's 11:49, seems to be pouring with rain out there, and I badly need some 'lemonses'. [Exhausted pause] Followed by some lunch, and a quick shower (indoor, not out). Nearly done. (I need to make the chatting space as wheelchair-friendly as I can manage.)
It's 15:33, still horribly wet out there, and I await my visitors. Should be an interesting catch-up. [Pause] It was... delightful. Good people. A pity we live so far apart. Plus — if I say so myself — I made them some damn' fine coffee. Carte Noire Arabica, if that means anything. Maybe there is something to this coffee lark, after all? Right. It's 18:58 and I could use a bite to eat, I guess.
It's 22:59, I'm tired, and it sounds rather wild and windy out there.