By Robert Clements
Just Plain Coffee Thoughts..!
Was wondering whether to write on politics or plain humour, when I found something staring at me, weird like, and realized it was my jug of coffee: Now I am one who likes my jug of coffee in the morning, and when I say jug I mean jug not mug, and life’s good and pleasant what? I tell you it’s good and pleasant till you go visiting them folks who read too much into research.
“What would you like in the morning Bob?”
“Coffee!” I say, surprised like, thinking what else can one have early morning but the good ole cup that cheers, “And lots of it,” I say all enthusiastic like, “Lots of coffee, maybe if you have a jug…” And then I look at stone faces staring back.
“What?” I ask, “No jug?”
“No coffee!”
“You run out of coffee?” I ask pleasant like.
“Coffee isn’t good for health, see what it says in the paper!”
And they go into the bedroom while I curse the paper and the editor and all those research fellows who instead of doing some good research on cancer and diabetes and all them diseases that kill people, spoil the lives of us healthy, happy guys by saying, “Hey chaps we haven’t found a cure for cancer!”
“Yeah, we haven’t found any for diabetes!”
“So what do we tell the world?”
“Tell them coffee is bad!”
Ye gads, don’t those research fellows behind them microscopes have any other work than finishing off us good people who are not harming them?
“Okay,” I say as they come back with the paper, “I’ll settle for a coke!”
“It’s bad for your teeth!”
“It’s okay!” I say, all growling inside, “My teeth have served me well, they can’t get worse!”
“No coke, you can’t go home with bad teeth!”
“You read it in the papers right?” I ask wearily.
“No, it came on the internet yesterday!”
I pack my bags and they look at me, sad like, “Why are you leaving Bob? Are you unhappy here?”
“No,” I say pleasant like though I be screaming inside, “I’m going back to where them newspapers don’t stop me enjoying the good things in life, like me coffee, tea and coke!”
And here I’m back sitting with my jug of coffee and dreaming of my eleven o‘clock tea and afternoon coke I down between my lunch, till the wife she comes up with the newspaper, “Bob did you see…”
“No,” I shout snatching the paper and throwing it away, “No, no, and no!”
“Bob,” she says patiently, “did you see they’re finding a cure for cancer!”
“Ah!” I whisper sheepish like, “Now that those research chaps have got back to work, they’ll leave me coffee, tea and coke alone!”
And as I settle down to have the cuppa I missed at that other place, I remember another coffee episode, God knows, why It’s all about coffee today, but here goes:
It was two months ago in America, I opened the top drawer where I’m sure my daughter had said the coffee mugs were kept, but a packet of coffee powder stared back at me, or was it chilly powder? But they don’t keep chilly powder on shelves, do they in America? Let it be, I told myself, not ready to solve the coffee and chilly powder problem right now, and opened the drawer below and nearly had forks and spoons and all the rest of the cutlery fall on my toes. I quickly closed the drawer on those murderous weapons and looked into the shelves on top.
I remember my thoughts and what followed: Where’s my coffee mug?
Well it’s not mine. Nothing is mine here, it’s not my home. My home is ten thousand miles away or somewhere near ten thousand, where my green coffee mug hangs neatly in its place, washed and wiped and wedged in its familiar setting with nobody else going to move it from there. Nobody would dare, I tell myself then look again for a coffee mug in my daughter’s home in New York, and suddenly the unfamiliar mocks me, “Who asked you to leave home and hearth?” ask the shelves and murderous forks and spoons, “Learn to stay where you belong!”
“Dad, what are you looking for?” asks my daughter, obviously awakened by the purposeful noise of the cutlery, betraying my furtive movements, “Nothing!” I say.
“Are you looking for a mug?”
“A mug?” I ask, “Not, a mug, but my coffee mug, the red one!”
“I think hubby’s using it!” says my daughter, “Take the cup!”
I take the cup, and measure only half of what I normally drink. When did I ever drink coffee in a teacup, I wonder.
“You should have stayed at home!” say all of the kitchen gleefully.
And I think of Columbus, and Magellan and Drake and all the explorers who left the comforts of home and hearth, searching the next morning, not just for coffee mug, but for coffee! They left the familiar, and because they did, the world benefitted, they did too, with untold wealth and name, but first they had to leave their coffee mugs.
I look at the teacup as my son-in-law enters, “Dad! Use this, it keeps the coffee warm for hours!”
I take the new mug which is also a flask from him, it’s better than the green mug at home, and as I taste the coffee, I realize that yes indeed the coffee stays hot. I look at the kitchen cutlery, and with a friendly voice tell them, “You got to leave the familiar before you discover something better,” and suddenly they grin and nod.
Somewhere at home, I know my green mug frowns at me for taking this bold step into the unfamiliar, but my hot coffee grins back at me!
Ah well sometimes you need to leave the familiar in your writing, of politics and other such stuff, and venture into them simple worlds of coffee, cups and coke, and find a simple message there for you, right?
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