My Morning Cuppa..!

My morning cuppa’s been getting some good press lately: Last week she was featured as a preventive for diabetes and this morning’s papers reported a cup of coffee a day keeps memory loss at bay!

Ha! And to all those people who’ve stared at me as I sip my daily addiction, do I hold such cuttings up for them to see. Though I glance at such reports, I’ve never needed to sustain my deep love and bonding for my cup that cheers.

“What do you have when you return from your morning walk?” I ask my friends.

“Gallons of water!” says John looking at me suspiciously.

“Yeah water replenishes the sweat you’ve lost,” says another, “and you?”

“My morning cuppa!” I sigh in anticipation.

Very often during the walk I’m joined by friends and neighbours laughing, joking and taking about events that have happened the day before on matters pertaining to football, cricket, politics or other stuff men love to chatter about. I become a little quiet after a while and suddenly friends whisper and look at me, “Bob?” they ask, “working on your next piece?”

I smile and say nothing.

How do you tell this bunch of warm, friendly good-natured fellows you’re just waiting to leave their company, that all their banter and jesting cannot replace the temptress waiting at home!

Sizzling hot, seductively sweet, whose aroma you sniff in anticipation, taste buds drooling with longing.

Ah my morning cup of coffee!

Not a day can I live without her. I remember years ago as a bachelor I had to make a choice between her and another; one more prettier and more shapely. “What do you love the most?” she asked.

“My coffee!” I said and did I see disappointment in her adoring eyes.

“I make good tea!” she said.

“Tea?” I asked in disdain.

Our friendship never went farther and sometimes when I do think of choice I made, I pat myself and whisper there was no choice at all was there?

And yet one day I walked away from my coffee. It was in Milan Airport a few years ago: “What will you have sir?” asked busy waitress as I sat alone. “Coffee!” I said.

“Which coffee?” she asked and threw menu on my table and hurried away.

“Which coffee!” I stared at the card. There was Caffe Latte! Expresso! Caffe Macha! Cappucino! There was Breve and Café Cito! And there was Granita! And also Café Americano and Expresso Romano!”

I sighed as the card stared mockingly back at me, “Choose!” it said, “choose between us!”

I couldn’t. How could I be disloyal to any one of them. The waitress came back, “Have you chosen?” she asked.

“Tea..! I said weakly, and glanced away from menu card. But did I hear a sigh of relief from all on menu card? “When it comes to coffee, Bob’s got no favourites!” they whispered happily…!