I am addicted to (cold) coffee. I actually boil the water and add the nescafe, but then I let it follow me around to the sofa, computer, tv and studio corner until it is lagom and then I start to drink it.
By the time I finish my flowery mug of coffee (maybe 2 hours later) it is destined to be cold. And I don’t mind, coz I got used to drink cold coffee when I lived in Greece for a while, falling in love with the queen of nescafe: frappe! I used to do those a lot, but now I don’t shake it or add sugar or milk, I just absent minded drink it black.
We have a coffee maker, but I usually just use it on Sundays or when we have guests. My best cups are white with blue thin stripes. They are called Blues and now not really my style any more, I would trade them any day for some more romantic rosy ones…
I love the sound of the coffee maker puttering away, and the smell of fresh coffee. It’s a lot about safety and comfort to me, the sound of my childhood. My mother (who has a big beautiful collection of Blå blom) is a persevering coffee drinker (hot and black), and when I grew up she always said:
– You are not an adult until you know how to drink coffee!
That thought always makes me smile.
Now, back to a short story I’m trying to write for school.
Have a great weekend!
Studio Friday theme: Let’s have a drink…
And if you know Swedish, read this: Inte utan min skissbok from DN.