The Milk of Paradise

Coffee is marvelous stuff. I’ll freely admit to addiction. I like it strong enough to have an effect that makes all cry ‘Beware! Beware! The flashing eyes, the floating hair!’

I think that quote was originally Coleridge. He must have been fond of coffee too, although, if I remember correctly, he had a proclivity for something even stronger. Coffee does it for me, though.

I make good coffee. The spoon stands up in the cup and quivers from the caffeine overdose. I add just enough milk to make it a murky, dark-chocolate shade of brown. There could be little Loch-Ness-like monsters in it; it’d be appropriate.

I haven’t ever had my morning wake-up cup in an alert state – that only happens after coffee - but I wouldn’t be surprised if my fingernails lengthened into claws as a take the first sip of the day. ‘Aaaaah!’ Or possibly ‘Arrrggggh’! Maybe even ‘Rowwwrrr!’ As I’ve said, I’m not really in a state to notice which at that time.

As you can imagine, it’s pretty energizing and I arrive at work vibrating and wide-eyed. Good stuff – it makes my boss think I’m madly enthused, even in the morning, so she doesn’t come near me because she isn’t, especially not in the morning.

Of course it could just be that the first cuppa causes me to grow fangs – I should probably look in the mirror to see if it does. I think fangs would suit me, really.

There are so many drinking songs, but not many about coffee. I can think of ‘Black Coffee’ and ‘Forty cups of coffee’ and that’s about it. Neither of them is particularly cheerful. Both, if I remember correctly, having to do with a person waiting up late for their partner.

I think a really good carousing song should be written about coffee. I’ll consider it.

I suppose a dawn picture is appropriate to this post…