Conversions and crash tackles

A bit like a Cyberman, my conversion is complete.

Unlike a Cyberman, I look the same on the outside, but on the inside I’ve been transformed into a coffee connoisseur.

I have my standard order: strong, regular flat white with half a sugar.

And I have my favourite brand: Campos.

The coffee shop across the road from my work – Mr Peabody – does an amazing combination of both. Sometimes I’ll be halfway through my first coffee of the day and already be mourning it ending because it’s so delicious.

I hated coffee before I met DD. He’s the pusher who got me hooked. Damn him.

He’s been moaning about the dreadful coffee in Beijing. It really hasn’t been his week, the internet at his hotel still isn’t working either.

When he’s in Oz, DD’s favourite order is a regular flat white made with Background Beans, from a coffee van that perches on the headland at Avalon Beach each morning …

What an awesome way to start the day! I am constantly jealous.

I’m not so jealous of his week in Beijing, it sounds horrible.

He’s been doing endless work travel lately. Blah. I’m beginning to forget what he looks like.

(Liar, I know exactly what he looks like: lovely.)

Come home and drink coffee with me DD … STAT … I miss you!

Song of the day: Rihanna “Only girl”

PS On an entirely different and startlingly random note, I was looking for a parking spot before the eldest’s end-of-year music concert last night when I pulled up at a traffic light next to a police station. As I glanced to my left I saw four cops crash tackling a bloke to the ground and a fifth helpfully assisting to keep him down by putting his booted foot on his head. I’m still feeling a little rattled by it, both that someone in such a low-key suburb required crash tackling and that a boot to the skull was deemed necessary. It was quite the contrast to a 15-year-old singing La Vie en rose by Édith Piaf a few minutes later while strumming a ukelele.