Coffee May 8, 2013Posted by BiB in Uncategorized.
So there was an expensive coffee on sale, which I thought I’d better buy, as it was called Berlin coffee, and the illustration on the packaging was over-40s with grey beards being turned away from Berghain and others pointing and laughing, and then it just cost so life-affirmingly much, and I asked if they could change the currency when debiting my card, to make it more expensive. And then I got it home, and gave it pride of place in the kitchen. And built an extension for it. A shrine for it. And then it turned out to be whole beans. Whole cunting beans. And I didn’t have a grinder. So I bought a grinder. “Which grinder should I buy?” I asked folk. And they said that one. And I did, but it would take ages to come in the post, and of course I wouldn’t be in when it arrived, or was, but didn’t hear the door, because I was hiding from reality, and so it went to the neighbour. Who’s got so much better-looking. And he wished me, “Schönen Abend Euch,” at the end of our 12-nanosecond chit-chat, when he knows full well that no other human has entered this flat since 1997. And then I overfilled the metal drum. And there was coffee everywhere. And the bouton pressoir ergonomique wasn’t even all that impressive. And the coffee wasn’t even all that much nicer. Though there were four complimentary biscuits.