Coffee.

Panic. I've eked out the last morose coffee beans from the bottom of the pot. Horrible timing, as I have a triptych of exams to take next week.

It's funny, but until I arrived at university I was a stoic tea-drinker. Nothing could have seemed better then a cup of great English tea in the middle of the day and my caffeine intake, whatever the makeup of that particular cuppa, was never an issue. It was a simpler time. A time when the very notion of caffeine headaches in the middle of May would never even cross my mind. Yesterday, choking down a latte in the blazing heat, I decided enough was enough; what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity. I'm forsaking coffee forever and making a triumphant return to tea. Even bought a pack of Earl Grey this morning; an elegant drink for a more civilised age*.

Whatever the reality, I've always seen tea (good tea, not half-milk-three-sugar-builders'-tea) as a drink of sophistication and lazy English afternoons. A good cuppa, I mean a good cup of proper English tea from a pot, can only really be enjoyed at leisure. Coffee seems much more of an American concept; a drink on the move. Convenience over class. Cool but crude, like Raphael. I don't know, maybe it's just me. Normal service, rather then uncensored ramblings about hot drinks, will resume next post.

*Star Wars fans, I know you clocked that.