I got the overfriendly barista again. I don't know how he has the time to dance about between the cups and the coffee machines, yet still maintain what he thinks is a cheery conversation. It trips off his tongue as though he's spent hours at home, practising in front of the mirror. I don't mind it - it's just that he clearly hasn't left any gaps for listening. We had the usual discussion about what constitutes a medium-sized cup of tea and what a medium cup actually looks like.
"Any room for milk?" he said. I said no. He gave me a three-quarter-filled cup with a teabag swimming about in it, label fully submerged. I started wondering about what would happen if androids took over running coffee shops.
How many pregnant people are there at any one time? I think they're all here, queueing up for Americanos and a tuna panini. The queue is at least 50% bump.
I bit into a Lemsip capsule today. I popped it out of the packet, and automatically threw it into my mouth before checking I had something to wash it down with. While I hunted about for my water bottle, I accidentally clamped down on the plastic coating and the capsule burst in the corner of my mouth.
My advice is - never bite a Lemsip capsule. It is vile. A hideous mess of bitter powder exploded across my tongue, igniting it into a ball of fire. I was in company so I couldn't spit it out; the plasticky gloop rolled around between my teeth while I tried hard not to screw my face up in disgust.
I don't have a cold, I just don't want one, so I'm trying to help myself not to burn out. Hence also, taking a break here in Starbucks with all the pregnant people in the northern hemisphere. And the overfriendly barista, eyeing up my tea mug as though wondering when I'll be finished.
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