Decaf Dreams

I am a slow learner not because of rumours of being dropped on my head as a child or car accidents in my slightly misspent youth, but rather because of a stubbornness that allows me to act like a twenty year old and expect my body to perform as such.

I had a delightful evening of sushi with a new friend and we decided to conclude the evening with a "coffee" and rest in heavy leather chairs. She ordered a decaf latte and ordered a cuppachino. No you heard correctly, I didn't fail to mention decaffinated, I ordered the twenty year old version.
And thus it came to pass that sleep settled accross the land, but not in the House of Lodewijks, where a forty six year old male  trapped in the mindset of a twenty year old tossed and turned and grumbled in his bed.
 There would be no dreams tonight and the hours dragged by slower than a school awards ceremony.


Coffee has an exotic allure that raises images of beans being hand picked in wild far off lands by young scantily clad maidens and the sweet scent of their bodies intermingling with the flavour of the beans. Roasted and distributed to all corners of the earth for us to enjoy the musky warmth and seduction that is known simply as coffee.
It is the "clever juice" of our generation and the coffee shops lure us in with promise of guaranteed satisfaction and friendship. It has been mixed with vanilla ice cream, with steamed frothy o so damn sexy milk and even incense.

Where we associate tea with the English and their wet miserable weather and snobbish tones, coffee is the drink that removes all hints of snobbery and is available and enjoyed by prostitutes and priests, round people and stick people, bikini clad models and lovers of little squeaky shivering dogs. It is friendly, it embraces life and kisses you as it touches your lips.

So tonight, make yourself a mug of coffee and reminisce life and contemplate who you will share your next  mug with.

Nite All

And to Claire, thank you for a wonderful evening.