so i get up early. hard for me. not nice for me. i struggle into work. i go via canary wharf. it adds to the journey time, but there are benefits. a decent tescos to get some sarnies in. a scenic route in to work. some lovely suited and booted office ladies to lech at. most of all a coffee republic to get a tall latte with an extra shot to start the day. they know me in there. i get the feeling they don’t like me. who cares? the coffee is good and strong.
i need coffee today.
although i am striding through the dlr station i am flagging. it is not even 9am and i am off to work. hell has frozen. but a coffee will repair my flagging spirits. i march manfully into the coffee republic. it is surprisingly empty, but it is open. i get my money ready.
she turns. looks at me, out eyes meet. is that a spark? could it be a connection?
“there is no coffee,” she says like a harpy from the stygian depths. i detect a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. what a callous wench she is.
i turn and trudge dejectedly out.
starbucks is my last best hope.
coffee in hand i wait for the next stratford bound dlr.
the coffee fills me with a fleeting feeling of euphoria, but i know the pattern of a blurgh monday has been set.
curse you coffee republic, curse you.
tomorrow i try somewhere else (if i can get up in time..)
1 comment:
I hate that Tesco more than most. It's clearly there for singletons who can't/won't cook. Everything is prepackaged and processed.
Caffe Nero is the best place for coffee at Canary Wharf. And at the time I pass through (possibly at least two hours before you) it's full of men.
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