Carly loves coffee. She adores it. I mean she is obsessed with it. When someone tells her, she must be understanding to smokers as they are addicted, she doesn’t really get it.
They ask her, if she, Carly, could give up coffee? She contemplates this. She is silent for a while. This is very unusual. Carly is rarely silent. She thinks silence is good. But really for others, as what she has to say is novel, fascinating and original. Anyway, once Carly has thought about giving up coffee, she realises that she can’t, as she too is addicted.
Carly has drunk coffee forever. Actually, not as long as knitting. She started knitting aged 11 whilst still living at home. Then she drank hot chocolate and Horlicks. She’s lucky she carries that mutation that means she can enjoy milk after the age of three. She smiles as usually having a genetic defect isn’t great, but this is a good one. Especially for her. Lots of her friends drink non-diary milk substitutes but Carly finds that it leaves a sort of skin on the roof of your mouth. Her daughter goes on and on about how the dairy industry is actually the single worst thing for climate change. And is worse than airplane flights. Carly considers this. She does lots of recycling and turns off all the lights both at home and work, plunging everyone into darkness. Her daughter, who is a teenager, remains unimpressed with Carly’s viewpoint. Carly has had enough of rowing with her daughter who, anyway, continues to secretly eat cheese, yogurt and ice cream.
Carly thinks back to when she first had coffee. It was on an archaeological dig in Cyprus. “Goodness!” She says “that was very boring”.
Getting up at four in the morning and spending eight hours sorting through dust and dirt for coins, glass and shards of pottery. At least she had coffee to enjoy for breakfast halfway through this tedious sifting.
At university, it was always instant coffee. And to be honest, she thinks now, that that was ok then. Of course, now she really is a coffee snob and aficionado. She has coffee textbooks to prove this. She only drinks cappuccinos. And only when she is out. But back then instant had to do and there wasn’t this plethora of coffee places or these fancy machines her son now has. He is equally addicted. When Carly was pregnant with him, Costa opened up in her local high street.
Carly went there all the time. When she was pregnant, on the day of his birth and during all the time she was on maternity leave. So, he really was exposed to the wonders of coffee firstly through his umbilical artery, then through breast milk and finally babycinos. Actually, this last one is frothed milk with chocolate powder but nonetheless he was exposed to this coffee culture from the get-go.
Later on Carly would go regularly to Crick’s Corner. This was a small, fabulous independent institution near her work. But it mostly remained a secret from the 1000s of workers at her hospital. She didn’t advertise it as she was keen to keep it her safe haven. She would, however, arrange to meet all sorts of special people there. She took the provost from her university there once. He was the head honcho of the entire institution. Having coffee always relaxed people and he had lots of issues he highlighted. So many people were being mean to him. Carly was rather surprised as she thought that being at the top of the tree meant everything would all be fine and dandy. He was quite a sweet old man. Carly couldn’t believe how tricky things were for him and the provost couldn’t believe how naïve Carly was.
Carly meets so many people there, that Cricks is her default location when she uploads any meetings into her diary. She has experienced all sorts of emotions there. Carly has laughed, cried and even been hysterical there. The staff don’t mind as they know Carly will cope. She often goes there alone and does her knitting. On a Saturday morning, Carly has a regular coterie of friends to walk through the park with her dogs to have a coffee at Cricks. This pleases Carly as it is killing not just two but three birds with one stone. Having coffee – always the most important, walking the dogs comes second as it is a necessity and then going with friends. They aren’t really third, Carly justifies to herself but the other two are absolute necessities. Carly wonders if her friends ever realised just where they were on her list.
During the Covid 19 lockdown most coffee shops were shut. Carly was morose about this and made it her business to discover any that were open. There were some but they often had very long queues. Carly would pass the time by striking up conversations with the people either side of her. Carly is a determined extrovert and loves to chat to people her daughter would term as “randos”. Carly couldn’t help but scowl when customers chatted to the coffee shop’s staff for too long. She realised that people were lonely, but Carly is both impatient and important. She has a job to do. Carly expends a great deal of mental energy considering how waiting around affects her. She often keeps people waiting and sometimes feels sheepish about this. Woe betide anyone who dares to keep Carly waiting. There seems to be some subtle exchange going on in Carly’s head ranking people. Of course, there are some things you are never late for. And with everyone’s attachment to their phones you can keep updating people of your progress. However, this texting delays things further but more importantly, Carly feels, texting causes her thumbs to ache and then she cannot knit. She has tried to use voice recognition software but what appears on her screen to send is often incomprehensible. Carly is in a bind. Really, she needs to consider all people as equal and just get there on time. None of this “two legs good but some two legs are better”. Or is it “two legs good and four legs better?” Her knowledge of Animal Farm is ropey to say the least.
Carly likes the caffeine fix the coffee gives her. Once a year she has to fast from all sustenance for 25 hours to atone for her sins. She has to take this very seriously as she has collected an enormous number. Carly has been warned that, as she is addicted to the caffeine, she should only drink decaffeinated coffee a week before the fast. Then she can atone for her sins without a thumping headache. But Carly decides that life is too short for her to suffer drinking coffee without the buzz for such a long time. She will just have to manage her atoning with a caffeine withdrawal headache. Life is a balance and 364 proper coffees a year will have to do.
Sometimes Carly has every intention of having her coffee, but things do conspire against her. Recently she bought an electric scooter. She knows these are illegal, but the police are too busy fighting drug crime where she lives to notice her. But Carly is not ok trying to scoot over bumpy pavements and carry a take-away steaming cappuccino in one hand. Splat goes Carly. Coffee all over the pavement. Some men rush over but Carly is fine. A bit mortified. But she is too embarrassed to return for a replacement, so for that year only 363 coffees. And of course, that number is severely open to question. Carly will often have more than one coffee in a day. The absolute minimum is one. Carly feels that is acceptable. But like any addiction, sometimes she has more. Oh no. Carly on speed. Watch out. You’ve been warned. Even more energy than usual.
