I’m back at my desk job, as regular readers will know. How have things been going so far? Well, let’s just day the chances of my being able to drink my coffee hot have increased, but my pleasure in making myself a coffee has sunk.
There is a big difference between coffee at home and at work. They are worlds apart. Dropping a coin into an industrial strength coffee machine and hearing it crank, groan and grind does not fill me with joyful anticipation. But listening to the bubbling and dripping of a good, old-fashioned filter coffee, now that is what making a coffee is al about, for me.
Then there’s the heating of the milk in my favourite saucepan, the baby blue enamel one with a pouring lip. And choosing a cup or mug to suit my mood. Then pouring the coffee and adding the milk and stirring and the vague wondering whether I will get to drink it before it goes cold.
Even if I don’t, I’ve smelled the coffee and gone through my ritual and taken my first sip. My break has been had. My mind has had a moment to settle, plan and focus on one simple thing.
Not all coffee breaks were created equal. It is the simple truth.