It's Wednesday late-morning. Those who rely entirely on this journal to keep informed may well have assumed that China swallowed me whole, although I've scattered my pawprints across other internet paths, so, no excuse really. Determination not to write caused my fingers to itch, although lethargy continued to thwart any serious attempt, until now. And this is the third time I've written this entry, before discarding in mild contempt.
Possibly lethargy is the wrong word, as my time has been filled to brimming with multitudinous work, domestic, social and personal-interest activities. In absence of writing, I have read, 8 novels since Christmas and still counting. The Poisonwood Bible is heartily recommended; A Fine Balance was a trifle depressing. Both were good for discovering a touch of recent history, and a way of life outside oneself.
I still fight, and how! I have unleashed the monster within. I await eagerly the morning following a spar, to count the bruises on my limbs. Niggling pain is my constant, beloved companion - the ache reminds me that I am king. I teach, and make my students laugh. Also, I walk past windows and delight to catch a glimpse of my bulging biceps in the glass. I feel that many words in this paragraph ought to be in bold caps.
The good fairy gave his notice before I left for China, and left after I returned. The new flatmate has settled his computer into a corner of the lounge, and I have discovered - to a seven-eighths measure of relief and one mild chagrin that not everyone is a neat freak. We comfortably occupy the same space, rarely crossing paths.
My office has changed, the company remains the same. They traded in my tinted downstairs prison window for a large upstairs sunny one, replete with trees. The two cafes and chinese takeaway have been replaced with the Ellerslie shops - 19 different lunch venues and counting. In short, a far more satisfying work environment, but not necessarily conducive to productivity on a hot summer day. Speaking of which, I should be working.
8 - days until I reach Beijing. This is a Very Significant Trip.
7 - books I intend to take on my trip, in order to wile away the flights, and also counter the likely lack of comprehensible TV, and the fact that blogspot is blocked from China.
6 - ingredients in the awesome stuffing I made for the roast chicken that Jessie and I enjoyed last night. Two slices of Vogel Bread, half an onion, half a spoon of dried oregano, 1/3 cup of dried cranberries, 1/3 cup of cashews, and a knob of butter (melted), bunged in the food processor until it looks less like ingredients and more like stuffing. Yummy, and the Vogel bread doesn't go all stodgy.
5 - date in October that my new nephew was born. The Sole Heir will need a new title.
4 - days until I reach Hong Kong.
3 - drinks bought for me at Revolver's video release gig last thursday, including Jagermeister & butterscotch schnapps shot. For the record, I actually went to see the support act, Gasoline Cowboy.
2 - wrong attempts within any 24-hour period that I get to try and remember my PIN, without getting my new Mastercard confiscated.
1 - friend that emailed in the weekend to say she's in Auckland for One Night Only before returning to London the day before I fly out.
I love good coffee, but I must surrender any claim to the title of connoisseur.
I stop every morning at Altezano for a daily takeaway fix; I've been in there every business day since I first noticed it was a cafe - a year and a half now. Even days I was ill, I'd turn up in mid-afternoon for my flat white, sometimes continuing to work to address a so-called urgent problem; sometimes crawling straight back home.
I've stopped drinking the machine coffee at work; on those days I feel like a hot drink I have green tea. I admit this switch was driven less (but still partially) by the ickiness of the coffee, and more by a vain desire not to stain my teeth any worse than they already are, an urge that kicked in shortly after I quit smoking. Obviously that's a useless endeavour given I'm still drinking my daily flat white and the green tea, and not gargling the listerine often enough for it to do its work - but the habit-breaking section of my subconscious never promised to be logical.
Side note - I've been 100% smoke-free since New Year. Go me!
But I digress. My morning fix goes faster if I have to wait a while for the bus; waiting and sipping, sipping and waiting... those days a bus arrives shortly after I do, I still have at least half of my cup remaining by the time I get to work.
*** GENUINE COFFEE CONNOISSEURS LOOK AWAY NOW ***
For some reason my rate of coffee consumption diminishes when I get to the office. Often a half-drunk coffee sits there cooling until such time as I pick up the cup to throw it away, and discover I still have quite a bit left.
Shame to waste.
So... coffee goes in the microwave for forty seconds, and comes out nice and hot; and with a flavour that has utterly transformed from the comfortably-good beverage made for me at the cafe, to brown scalded milk with a hint of acrid caramel. If I've left it in the microwave too long, it forms a thin milk-skin on the top.
And I still drink it. Sometimes I have to gulp it because it tastes so bad.
Certainly, I can tell the difference between a good coffee and a bad one. But to my knowledge, I believe I've only ever refused to drink a coffee once, and that was almost five years ago. I was still staying with my brother in Pakuranga, and I'd bought a doughnut and a coffee at Dunkin' Doughnuts in the plaza, thinking to myself "how bad could it possibly be?". Five minutes later, outside a mall in suburbia, clutching the stodgiest doughnut and palest excuse for an alleged-coffee-flavoured substance in living memory, I stared at my snack, shrivelled in despair, and threw the whole lot in the bin.
Oh wait, make that twice. One time I got the oddest-tasting coffee from Roasted, but after conferring with my companion, we established that the milk was off, or they gave me soy with sugar, or something. The jury's still out on that one. I sent it back but the replacement was near-identical.