Tuesday 4:06 p.m.
The cute decorator chapped my bedroom door and I opened it before putting the light on, so it looked dark with the curtains drawn and all, and I had to show her my candle. Because you don't want folk to think you're weird, neither you do, even when you are.
Later, I went out to order Pointing Out The Great Way from Waterstone's and then went out for a coffee down the road a wee bit.
I'm trying to learn how to do this coffee shop stuff. First I learned that you can say double expresso and you get a wee tottie cup. Last week when I was in the pub with Allan Guthrie, he ordered a latte, so I was going to order a latte in Costas today, but I don't do dairy these days, so I chanced my arm with an medium Americano without milk. You get a giant cup of horrible black stuff, but it's actually quite good value. I sat for nearly an hour sipping it while reading The Times and, unlike with beer, there is no way you'd want to drink another cup of that crap.
I have no inclination to buy any soapbar at the moment, but the last three weeks of no soapbar have been quite alcoholic, and now I'm gradually weaning myself off the booze. I haven't had anything to drink for the last two nights out of three, and I think what I'll do is drink a bottle of plonko collapso every second night, then every third night ...
Yesterday, I went to the hut and sat there for three straight hours to get away from the plasterer. I didn't take gloves, but I wasn't too cold. The vase breathing and all is a help in these circumstances, but I'm still miles and miles away from prevailing against the cold.
This morning I wakened up at half four and was meditating by five. At seven I went out for a paper. I fell asleep at the back of nine and started meditating again just before eleven, and the cute decorator chapped the door at just before one.
What you've got to do is hit the point when you don't mind what time of day it is, and what might come next. When serenity starts returning, you know you're starting to get back to where you should be. The Domestic Bliss won't be back till later in the evening and I'll meditate for as much of the interim as I can. I won't do any hard training tonight. Yesterday I stripped a wall and a ceiling and felt so, so exhausted afterwards. I couldn't believe it. Knackered. So I'll lay off this evening and maybe go out for a bottle of collapso later, and maybe not.
What do you think, Jack? Well, Hotboy, once you give up the booze, there will be nothing left to give up except the coffee and tea. Onan the Bavarian doesn't drink coffee, so it must be bad for you. I wonder why.
6 comments:
If you are going to order coffee, order it with soy milk. Which is not dairy. Then you can enjoy it and it isn't horrible.
Coffee happens to be my drug of choice. Though a double espresso is too much.
Sounds like the decorating is going well. I'm looking at moving again. But not till April.
I believe the jocko coffee shops are like the buses, full of old people staying out of the rain. Cheaper than mental hospital though.
I'm glad to say I've never seen your candle.
Marie! I went to the coffee shop again and the Americano didn't taste quite as horrrible. I know you can get used to anything. You move a lot and must be very adaptable!!
Albert? The coffee shops are full of young women with greetin wanes. All the old folk are dozing off on the buses. Do you know what diseases you can get off coffee then? I need to know! Hotboy
Hotters. Don't worry about coffee at this late stage in the game. We've probably all laid the groundwork for our demise decades ago.
Albert? That's very reassuring about the coffee. But it tastes so bitter!! Hotboy
Hotters. A herbalist told me bitter tastes are good, they stimulate the liver. Also the gall bladder. A health drink in that respect. Naturally it also has ill effects elsewhere, but maybe not on any organs you're likely to use. It all balances up, if that's any help.
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