Sunday, 25 September 2016

Morning Coffee

The morning coffee. I'm not sure why I drink it. Maybe it's the ritual of the cup, the spoon, the hot water, the milk, and the hint of sugar, the way they come together to form a support, I can hang the day on. It's something to do between being asleep and waking up. 
Surely there's something better to do though, than to drink a cup of coffee. Such as meditate? About what? About having a cup of coffee. A cup of coffee whose first drink is too hot and whose last drink is too cool, but whose many in-between drinks are, like the middle of a bottle of wine, just right.
Talking of coffee, Susan and I are on a voyage of discovery, actually a quest to find coffee houses and cafes that are unique, serving good coffee in an atmosphere that appeals. We have visited many but some have impressed. We are putting together a coffee table book, that will feature as many coffee houses, cafes and unique eating places as we can before we get bored and move on to something else. We have a few favourites already and have been back many times. Starbucks is definitely not even going to feature. The thing is that some might not actually be very good, but for some reason or other we would go back. Sandbanks Cafe is one of those we go back to but only because of its location. It over looks Sandbanks beach on the one side and Poole Harbour on the other, lovely to sit and have a coffee, while watching the rain belts down or the wind blows a gale. It is also expensive. Actually sitting writing this from the above mentioned cafe, coffee and Victoria sponge cake. (£5.90).
I mistakenly ordered a Cappucino instead of an Americano and I must confess to having left the frothy bit with chocolate on, way to rich for me. Well must be off, Sam needs a walk and my parking has expired. In passing, Claudia's birthday yesterday, images shows her beauty and spirit. Till anon.

Last of the Summer Sun

Sunday afternoon finds me looking out to sea from one of my favourite coffee shops, no cake only coffee, I have decided not to have Victoria Sponge. In my experience, cakes at the end of a day are normally dry and Victoria Sponge does not lend itself to being dry.
Susan is in Dubai for a couple of weeks, they are getting ready to launch a new attraction and it is all hands on deck to finish in time. Actually I am alone at the moment as Robert is in California, Michael is in London, never fear, he is back tonight. With Susan and Robert away I do not have to watch what I cook, they are off fat. Rump steak, chips and a huge salad with loads of feta and olives, will be my meal tonight. Tomorrow a rich pasta with double cream and Parmesan. 
Talking of pasta, I can still hear my mum saying how much she loved pasta.
'Oh, I love pasta, have to ration myself to only three a week.'
A pity she left us so soon, way before her time. I came upon this and thought it a appropriate description of her.
'Not to be stormed even in deaths confusion, rememberer, then, for she too is a winner of wars. Enduring like a tree under the curious stars.' 
Rest easy Mum.
Talk about wars, I passed a large number of motorbikes today, driving in a long convoy and all dressed up. Some where on old bikes, like the WWII and others in formal wear, suits and evening gowns, with high heels. About one hundred I would guess. Wonder what that was all about?
Anyway I must rush to get the evening post for this blog.

Friday, 16 September 2016

The Cow for Breakfast

As we try and find new places to have our weekend breakfast, this half price offer was the natural choice for the bank holiday weekend. Poole is one of those seaside towns where the traffic over a bank holiday weekend is not for the faint hearted, so a trip to Ashley Cross, which is somewhat off the beaten track for the holiday makers was our obvious choice. 
On to the breakfast, staff very friendly and the full English breakfast for £ 6.50 with a bottomless coffee or tea seemed inviting. Food was good and the coffee just as good, but we were only given 1 item of everything, no toast and no mushrooms. So an egg, rasher of bacon, friend tomato, sausage, two hash browns, generous portion of baked beans will be your breakfast. This to me is a half English breakfast. 

I know you are saying, it is just another old guy moaning, but I am putting my money where my mouth is and have reviewed them on Trip Advisor. Quite favourable I might add but the little things that annoyed me, did get a mention. Bottomless cup of tea or coffee, not proper coffee like a espresso but filter coffee,  misleading I would say. Would I go back, maybe? Anyway, forever forward and upwards to bring the latest breakfast news to those who are not lucky enough to be able to frequent these most exotics of places.

Susan is off to Dubia for 12 days on Sunday, 38 deg C in the day and night time temperatures only down to 28, just the kind of weather she thrives on. Pity she will have to work but then there is always the late afternoon to swim. Robert has been voicing his displeasure at the heat in California, that is only 34 today. Bring on the winter is all I will say on the subject.

The book I never wrote

Someone once did asked me why I write a blog, why write at all when you do not publish it, and get the rewards. I suppose it is the book I have not finished, the words I did not say. It has been my path that I have lead and the words are my thoughts, only written on a simple blog. Maybe, this is the book I never wrote.
In my blogs are dreams I dream instead, the joy I hope to spread, also the fear that I dread. In some small way that is what it represents and how I feel. Most of my writing comes to me like a inspiration, a vision, a word or a look. Leaving its seed in my brain and then that inspiration, vision or word make it out to become my blog.
Enough of the melodrama, it does only serve the few who question too deeply. 
Gongoozler - A person who likes to mindlessly stare (at anything). If only we all had more time to stare idly and do nothing. Turns out this old word has been adopted by canal boat residents and survives there to this day.
Words are such interesting things, take Terrier, the type of dog, comes from the Latin for terra. They are bred to go into the barrows under the ground, terra is earth in Latin. 
It is Friday afternoon and I am taking the rest of the day off, as I am prone to do lately. A good Americano and a fresh slice of Victoria Sponge helping my creative cells to come up with something that resembles a good read. Some over zealous seaside visitors are sitting outside, silly, twisted humans. I always say they that frequent the wind and the cold, in nothing but a jumper, must be from the north.