I have a cold, and I’m coughing. The apothecary’s daughter suggested her father’s syrup, but I’ve had too close a view of his workshop to take that up. Meanwhile the weeks go past and Mary complains she can’t sleep for the noise I make. Harry from the blacksmith’s, little Harry with the smutty nose, says his uncle in the country swears by a pickled pigeon’s egg, mashed with honey and ash. Where does one find a pigeon egg in November, let alone a pickled one? And why am I pa

‘Waiter!’ ‘Yes sir.’ ‘Bring me a large cold coffee please… my taste-buds are on fire… Wicked.’ The waiter left…with the name bored look on his face that he wore all evening. ‘That usually gets a laugh or two…’ spoke this young man… who was actually chuckling… . Chuckling for three really, as his companion simply looked embarrassed. For a first date, this was starting off ‘not good’. She sighed inwardly, considered her predicament. ‘How do I get out of this evening wit

“Whatcha mean cold coffee?? My mother and great grandmother, and her girlfriend (yes, she finally came out), hate cold coffee. Personally, I’ll drink coffee through a shitty rag. We useta have races at the factory on who could leave their coffee the longest to see who’s was the coldest. One bloke left his coffee for 3 weeks. – We then found out he’d died 2 weeks before from bad coffee. Supposedly he won.” “But I’ll drink coffee at any temperature. Even make coffee ice cubes

Snow Snow slush Snow slush plus coffee Cold coffee Mit milch und sucre It’s winter in the lands of the midnight sun and it is what we drink after a robust cross-country ski to the outdoor sauna – in the dark… The coffee hardens us for the plunge. Toby would dunk himself in the Bondi Ice Bergs annual ice float, ‘just to keep his toes’ in he said. But, truly, his spirit missed the Northern Lights and those never-ending days. He claimed it gave him back all the hours he’d slep

‘What the fuck.’ ‘What?’ ‘Every time.’ ‘What?’ ‘This fucking coffee is cold.’ ‘Oh dear.’ ‘I'm going to tell them.’ ‘Ohhhh.’ ‘Excuse me girly.’ ‘Oh no.’ ‘Yes.’ says the eighteen-year-old, astounded at the address. ‘My fucking coffee is cold AGAIN,’ says my 89 year old mother. To say the girlie was astounded is an understatement. ‘Go to get the manager!’ With this girlie slinks off and talks to the manager. A very well dressed lady strides over, jaw set, looking more like she h