java5
Parts one, two, three and four.
God I miss Nero, but as the Great Icelandic Man used to say, 'I've started so I'll finish'.
Yesterday morning: the coffee chain that I used to work in and that I shall refrain from identifying out of politeness (I think I mentioned here that I used to manage five Korean ladies and a couple of adorable mutant mice, immune to most poisons known to ratkind, and very fond of crisps and biscotti).
The most expensive coffee so far (1 pound 95, 16oz, three espresso shots). Surprisingly, not as intense as I remember it, and not at all followed by the buzz one would expect from so much caffeine. Don't take my word for it though, I might very well be biased. Not the happiest period in my professional life, remember?
Yesterday lunchtime: Eat, Bedford Street, Covent Garden. Very stylish brown paper cup, black logo in big bold letters. Haven't tasted their food yet, I hear they do nice soups. The same cannot be said for their coffee. 1 pound 60, 16oz cup, not bad. At first the sight of two big help-yourself thermic jugs of skimmed and full fat organic milk made me rejoice in the anticipation of finally having my coffee as milky as I like it (=excessively). Then I tasted it, and it turned out to be the very same diarrhoeic discharge that my gym gives out for free. Filter. Burnt. Could not even finish it, and that's a first around here. Poured it down the sink at work. I swear I heard the sink spit it back with a loud raspberry.