“My name is Monique Reymer and I’ve been a coffee-holic for most of my adult life.”
There. Now it’s out in the open.
For those of you who know
me, this will come as no surprise, merely a confirmation of what you already
suspected.
I don’t know if there is a cure. I’m not sure I want one. My new-ish coffee machine and I have an on-going relationship of mutual affection (Okay, its mainly one-sided- I adore it, I’m not sure it realises I exist), and it has ‘bought’ me many a friend, who, in our café deficient rural area, happily come to imbibe at my place. I’m sure it’s just the coffee they’re after. I usually just have two – or 3 – coffees before midday, and no obvious serious side effects to date. I blame (or credit) my Dutch heritage. The Dutch always have a ‘second’ everything – a ‘second cup,’ a ‘second drink’ and they even have a ‘second Christmas Day’!
A warm up exercise
in the online writing course I have been doing was to ‘eat a piece of food and use it as a starter to write about’. I had my
steaming, freshly brewed cup of coffee on the desk beside me, so it felt appropriate
to use that as my subject. I had fun writing this and even more fun reading it
to my friends one morning (over coffee, of course).
This got me thinking seriously about 'spoken poetry' or 'poetry slams' as it is called in the business. If you
have never had the joy of experiencing this, check out ‘Sarah Kay’ as a good example. Her ‘if I should
have a daughter’ was on a TED talk which I
luuurved. Sarah Kay, TED talk: 'If I should have a daughter' or this one with Katie Makkai - Pretty I always did like public speaking (weird, I know. Most people
hate it. I am a ‘closet exhibitionist’- lol. ) So I may be working more
seriously on Spoken Poetry in future – watch this space- but for now, have a
coffee as you read:
COFFEE
You can spend three hours a day playing the piano,
practising and practising until every last note is perfect, the rhythm and
cadence faultless, the nuance and emotion effortless. And then you play the
performance piece, and it is done. If you don’t keep up the practice, it won’t
stay perfect. You are only ever as good as your last performance. It’s not like
a painting you can put on the wall, and say ‘see, look how good I once was’,
even if you never paint again.
The product itself is a sight to make many a barista swell
with a sense of proud satisfaction. Soft milky whiteness, with an artful
scattering of cinnamon dust on the snowy surface, hides the true content of the
black, inky bitterness lurking beneath.
Then, finally; The Tasting.
The foaminess of the milk, the smoothness of the blend, the gentle
bitterness soothed by the hint of cinnamon, swirl around the mouth in a
dizzying combination, rendering the brain defenceless as it is at once both drugged by the headiness of
the brew, and then shocked, as if struck by a lightning bolt in the mouth.
Alert now, the body admits defeat, as it succumbs to the giddying effects of a
brew well made, well presented, and well imbibed.
The concerto is complete.
The audience rise to a standing ovation.
Today’s coffee was good.
