WHEN SHALL WE THREE MEET AGAIN? (tomorrow morning probs..)

Continuing with my birdwatching amongst the Costa Shop Regulars.......*

*I overhear the conversations because the tables are so close. I'm not spying.... honestly:

These two characters were the original Regulars.

NAME: POISON GRANNIES                    SPECIES: Grannies

SIGHTING: Common, All year                               CALL: 2 Cappuccinos &

                                                                                        a glass of tap water chaser

PLUMAGE: Head to toe Edinburgh Woollen Mill/Marks & Spencers Classic Collection

                  Granny 1 prefers dark, denim jeans with ironed-in creases

                   Heavily wrinkled

                  Thick powder puff (I would guess Max Factor – like my nan used to use)

                  Visible varicose veins - Granny 2 who prefers floral pattern skirts

L'Oreal
Because we're worth it

This pair border on the stereotype. Granny 1 is tall and thin, whilst Granny 2 is short and more rounded. A sort of Laurel and Hardy, but without the hats. The first thing that strikes me is the well-worn skin on their faces. My mother would describe them as having a 'hard face', but I think I prefer the term: 'lived in'. They both wear face powder a shade too dark, which sits in the crevices and only accentuates the problem. Think Keith Richards in lipstick and you start to get the picture. I have concluded that their facial erosion can only be put down to a) smoking, and/or b) frowning. I'm not sure about the first, although I can certainly picture them with a glass of gin in hand and a fag hanging from the corner of their mouth. However, I do have stronger evidence about the frowning. Because they frown a lot, these two; frown and bitch.

A cappuccino &
glass of tap water please

During the whole time I have been sitting here bird-watching, I cannot think of a single occasion when I heard anything pleasant or positive from their table. They simply don't seem to have a kind word to say about anyone which made me think, 'blimey, they're a poisonous couple of individuals' and the name just stuck.

They are the kind of people you could easily imagine sitting there at the end of the family table at Christmas, wearing a paper hat and a scowl that could stun a brussel sprout, just because the turkey has overrun and they are missing the Queen's speech on the telly.  (As an aside, in my experience it is often the most miserable ones who wear the paper hats the longest at Christmas – a strange phenomena, but there it is).

Anyway, they are particularly venomous about one of their neighbours who apparently sits indoors all day, being waited on hand and foot by her son. I get the feeling the grannies wouldn't mind being waited on hand and foot by their offspring given half the chance, for it turns out that this isn't the neighbour's worse crime. Oh no, indeed not..... no, that would be her dreadful curtains: I shall take a large breath and let Granny 1 explain:

“I don't know what she was thinking and I bet she paid the earth for them, though you wouldn't think it to look at them and they don't go with anything because they're the wrong colour and they're much too heavy and will block out the light and I told her, I said, you'll have to have them dry-cleaned because they obviously can't be washed....”

A good mangle
does wonders

And so on. For 15 minutes without hardly drawing breath. Solid. Life doesn't get much more exciting than this, I can tell you.

Young people? “Of course, the problem with young people today is that they just don't wash things like we used to after the war”.

This surprising fact can apparently be pinpointed and laid at the feet of the demise of the mangle.

would you like to come up to my place
and see my curtains?

George Clooney? What on earth could be wrong with Gorgeous George I hear you ask. Well, he cuts no ice in rural Suffolk. Over to Granny 2:

“Well, you know, they had one of his films on the telly last night. I couldn't tell you what is was called, but I watched it 'till about quarter-past ten and then I thought: that's it, I've had enough' and went to bed. Don't know what all the fuss is about.”.

Granny 1 concurs. Poor George would be crushed.

The staff do try and lighten the mood.

Barista: Morning! Isn't it a lovely sunny day? Much better than yesterday. Are you up to anything nice?

Granny 2: No, just visiting my friend. She got run over at the weekend.

I try not to sit at the table next to them if I can help it, because the toxic doom and gloom seeping out from behind the cappuccinos tends to wash over me like a bucket of cold mist.

One does love a good laugh

I have also secretly pledged never to invite them to Christmas dinner at my house for fear that my table linen won't be up to scratch - not to mention that my middle daughter is a huge fan of George Clooney and my turkey always, without fail, overruns. In fact, we haven't seen the Queen's speech in more than 7 years.

Actually, I am not too sure about my curtains either........

Next Sighting:  The Professor

BIRDWATCHING WITH COFFEE

The Tiara has not been on good form just lately. Life has taken yet another one of its regular wrong turnings and left me up a gum tree with a leaky paddle. First, I thought I would vent my spleen at the injustice of my lot through my blog, but then the vacuum cleaner broke so the Dyson felt the full force of my wrath instead. The result of all this anger is the vacuum cleaner lies a broken piece of revolutionary engineering in the spare room and I am still shouting at whatever God happens to be passing by.

Thus, with a dusty floor and a heavy heart, I plod off to my local Costa Coffee to sit and watch my world pass by. I often tweet about the regulars that flock there, so I thought as part a creative writing therapy to lift my mood, I would blog about the characters that share my hour every morning between 9 and 10am. They are all real people; their monikers merely protect their identity and save myself from a black eye should any of them ever find out I am writing about them.

Despite an abundance of tea shops, we have two Costa Coffee shops in this town (and a Starbucks, but that's a whole different kettle of mackerel) and they all do a roaring trade with the more elderly population who seem to be more than happy to pay £2.45 for a cappuccino*.

*According to my mother (who purports to know about these things) the older person only ever orders cappuccinos because they know what's coming; whereas (according to her) no-one really knows what a latte involves – it's one of those exotic foreign practices – the unknown, like spaghetti bolognese in the 1970s. My mother feels the same way about pesto and even today, still won't entertain feta cheese.

Anyway, back to the coffee shop sightings. First up is one of my favourites:

NAME: ESPRESSO MAN                                   SPECIES: Elderly Male

SIGHTING: Common, All year                                          CALL: ESpresso, black

PLUMAGE: Raincoat, flat cap, shopping bag

This old fellow orders the smallest, but strongest espresso Costa can make. Espresso man is about 90 years old and I imagine he must have the stomach lining of a mountain goat, because he drinks this stuff every day. A little while back, my husband once tried an espresso. The resulting energy buzz meant he cut the lawns, washed the windows, took the rubbish to the dump and started to sort out the garage. However, the buzz eventually wilted and quickly curtailed this unnatural phenomona of movement. He retired to his bed with a headache, leaving the garage as a work-in-progress - where it remains to this day. He has never touched the coffee again.

Espresso man is a whole different specimen however. He is a tiny, bald Irish man who wears an oversized, beige raincoat and a muddy-green, chequered flat cap. He shuffles when he walks; is always alone and carries a jute shopping bag which appears to be empty apart from a copy of the Daily Mail. He is quite deaf but can cuss in 4 languages (Gaelic, English, Italian and French - I happen to know this for a fact).  He reads the newspaper aloud and whenever he comes across something that he considers ridiculous (which is nearly on every page – it is the Daily Mail after all) then the effing and jeffing begins. Most of the regulars and staff are very fond of the old guy and tend to let him get on with it, but he still causes much consternation to whoever happens to be sitting on the next table (Yummy mummys, tourists and posh people particularly get outraged). Espresso Man says his late wife had kissed the Blarney Stone and could talk and talk and talk; then she got Alzheimer's and everything went quiet... and then she died. His motto to life is: "never live too long".

Apart from me, Espresso Man is the only other customer I have seen to have his coffee delivered to his table.

Next sighting: Henry V

THE SEATS IN COSTAS

This song often gets stuck in my head when sipping a latte......
To the tune of 'Streets of London' and with apologies to Ralph McTell (I hope he doesn't get too cross if he ever finds out about it)

Have you seen the old man

sitting there in the corner,

flicking thru the paper

with a worn out sigh.

In his eyes you'll see no light

they're deadened by a too-long life.

Yesterday's hero - reading yesterday' s news

So how can you tell me you're lonely

and say for you that the sun don't shine?

Well, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the seats in Costas.

I'll show you something to make you change your mind.

And have you seen the young girl

sitting glued to her iPhone,

staring at her lap through her unbrushed hair.
She's no time for smiling;

She just keeps right on typing.

Checking every minute - for a text that's never there.

So how can you tell me you're lonely

And say for you that the sun don't shine?

Well, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the seats in Costas.

I'll show you something to make you change your mind.

And in the bookshop cafe at a quarter to eleven,

you will always find me - sitting there on my own.

Looking at the world

over the rim of my laptop;

editing a novel -

that the world will never know.

So how can you tell me you're lonely

And say for you that the sun don't shine?

Well, let me take you by the hand and lead you through the seats in Costas.

I'll show you something to make you change your mind

ME AND MY COFFEE (NO LEMONS ALLOWED)

Well, this has been a bit of a funny old weekend. First up, the usual fallout from Back class was dreadful and in my case on Saturday, it actually turned into a "fall-down"!  It is the first time I have actually fallen; my knees have given way in the past, but I have always grabbed onto something and never completely hit the deck.  I have to admit to being  frightened by this experience - just another little sign I am are not exactly in control here.

The upside however, was spending time with my husband and youngest daughter.  We walked around town (ok, I admit it was slow and I had to sit down every 10 minutes) and we had coffee together.  Now my coffee habit can only be described as.....well.... a firmly-established dependency really.  I seem to be addicted to the stuff and Costas latte is the worst.  It's like a Pavlov's Dog Response - I see it, I smell  it, I want it, I have it and at £2.45 a pop it doesn't come cheap.  I like to square this particular circle with my own justifications:  1) it's less expensive than a packet of cigarettes and doesn't harm my lungs (we're not worrying too much about the rest of the health issues here); 2) it provides me with a legitimate "sit down" in a nice warm environment (unlike the shoe shop, where I pretend to be trying on shoes but am actually just desperate for a rest: no madam doesn't really like these ones, perhaps in another colour on another day....) and most importantly 3) it provides "me-time" where I can sit and read, or write that world famous blockbuster novel that will be turned into an Oscar winning film with Colin Firth playing the leading man, or plan out a business venture that will  keep me in a manner to which I can become quickly accustomed to.  In other words it keeps me off the streets and sane and human and therefore, in my humble opinion, is well worth the£2.45.

Not only that, but it's different to just having a cup of coffee at home: at home you look at the carpet that hasn't been vacuumed, or the TV that is showing such utter twaddle you are almost embarrassed to admit you are watching it. No, you have made the effort to go out, to park your backside where there are few "distractions" (unless you are unlucky enough to be sitting next to the yummy mummy with 17 kids all under the age of 3) and to share this with my family has been a real bonus for me this weekend and a warming experience.  It's almost as though we were removed from the rest of the world for just 30 minutes (my 9 year old has a babychino - it makes her feel very grown up) and we sit and chat about anything and everything, but noticeably NOT about my back....for there are other things in life...