Bridie tries Real Coffee

So I really wanted to like this coffee.


Firstly because I’m highly susceptible for pushing the limits of advisable suggestions – my 20’s and my 30’s were largely a decadent lifestyle of compromised values. Basically I had a massively good time. But now as a responsible parent of two under three, the only 3am night bus I encounter is the one I kick down the hallway on my way to arrest some small person panic.


Second reason for waving this coffee flag is that I’m also very pro the planet and would knit trees if I could. So the fact this coffee was not just street value strength but also organic and free trade seemed so wonderfully perfect. Like I would be awake through the power of POLAR BEARS!  So it was decided. I was going to love this. And I would tell everyone!  Be still my (soon to be beating fast) heart, the new world order of awesome is GO!


But. But then I didn’t love it. I liked it.


It’s nice and looks the goods but it’s a little…watery. Like filtered coffee. Nice filtered coffee you have if you ever sit at the pointy end of a plane. It tasted perfectly nice but not nicely perfect. The silver covering is also a little filmy so extremely easy to accidentally punch in its little head so that the granules spill everywhere which is a colossal pain with little fat folk set upon hoovering anything that falls to the ground. No. Nonono. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. I was meant to be gleaming eyed awake, brightly informing the breakfast table how the world was on course for saving, one delicious cup at a time. Not sweeping up crumbs of disappointment while internally debating the point of world that tasted medium.


Feeling despondent and not sure how to rectify the letter of high praise I had rashly dictated myself, I took my ever-expanding thighs to the gym to rethink.  It was there while standing in the shower, the water curiously stops. Hmmm, this isn’t good. After some uneducated jiggling of the nozzle and baseless chin tapping of thought, along came the whoop whoop of the fire alarm. Standing goggled eyed at the speakers I hear a voice firmly tell me to ‘PLEASE EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY’ Wha? This is followed by a swarthy lady banging on the door barking at me to leave my belongings and to leave. So there I am buck naked in a small gym towel being told to get into the alleyway now now NOW!  er…now? like now now?


It’s at this point I quickly assessed my situation and my attire. But then my survival skill kicked in! Followed closely by vanity. I realised I had two options.


  1. stand the alley in my small gym towel exposing either upstairs or downstairs or
  2. B. die a fiery painful death with jeans aflame.

If you are pressing a buzzer and shouting B you are correct.  I scampered back to my locker, ignoring the increasing pleas of staff imploring me to leave and hauled – with enormous difficulty –  my dry jeans over my wet legs. Finally, with the force of a mother well versed in jamming the shoes on a furious toddler, they were in place. Moments later…I tumbled toward the door….one gym shoe, one leather boot….shirt on backwards… in one hand…my lunch in the other (I don’t know why either) but I was ALIVE!


I stood and watched the fire department for awhile and then went home. My chaffed thighs burning along with remaining belongings in the gym. I stared at the minus me plus world coffee. I had another one.  It still wasn’t perfect. But I didn’t die today and neither should the planet because I like thicker coffee. Fair trade and organic wins. This is my new world order and its good.

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