Posts Tagged ‘Starbucks’

Five Jam Doughnuts

Son made chocolate covered strawberries & marshmallows at school today, so yesterday morning I stopped off at M&S to get the strawberries because they always look so nice (even if they don’t taste that great), I also picked up the marshmallows but there was no cooking chocolate. As I was up the road getting a Starbucks, I popped into Sainsburys to get the chocolate and while I was there I picked up a pack of five jam doughnuts. At around 4.00, while everyone was out, I made a cup of tea and popped two doughnuts in a bowl and went to bed to watch the Real Housewives of Orange County. Three doughnuts left. Not long after, whilst tapping on the iPad, I absent mindedly cut a third in half and ate it, closely followed by the second half. I felt so ill – I smoked a spliff and lay on the sofa, clutching my stomach, which felt like I’d eaten three lead balloons. So then there were two. JD ate one, leaving the last, which was consumed by Son and Lurky, leaving zero for anybody else, much to my shame.







New Gloves Gone

Yesterday I went to Muswell Hill for an all day breakfast with La Poppette. Just last month I purchased a lovely pair of brown cable knit fingerless gloves – I say ‘lovely’ but they were actually a trifle itchy (cashmere is the only way to go). We paid the bill and left, leaving behind my new gloves.

We trundled up to Starbucks in North Finchley and then went to buy some padded brown envelopes so I could send my friend Tuff Dude her now weekly draw. And home.

As I was tidying around, I realised that my gloves were nowhere to be seen. ‘Shit, I think I left them in the cafe!? … And where are those envelopes!?’ – if I could find the envelopes then perhaps the gloves were with them?

The hunt began; I looked on every surface touched by me since entering the house, I looked in all the drawers available, twice … nothing. I chose not to get into a fluster and decided to look again later. On further investigation, I found the envelopes in a drawer.

Conclusion; the gloves MUST have been left behind.

This morning at 9.00 a.m. I walked to Muswell Hill – it was gloriously sunny. I went back to the cafe and saw the same girl who had served me yesterday and I described my gloves and she said, ‘No.’ Fucking liar!

On reflection, it may be a bit unfair to say she is ‘liar’ in that manner, as when I lost my sunglasses I swore blind that I’d left them at the pub and that they were all liars and then the glasses turned up two weeks later, having been left in a spot that was so unusual, I’m surprised they were ever found.



Gaunt Monkey

My friend Winnie is bare-faced rude and insulting. She never tires of telling me that my skin looks dehydrated and that I really need to drink more water (like I give a fuck) – you should see the state of her, I could wipe the floor with her if I chose to be so rude (she’s as big as a bloke and when she walks she looks like Mr Strong). During the summer she came over and she threw no less than three insults at Honey in quick succession (which I did find hilarious but he did not). To avoid it happening again, I decided  to downgrade our friendship to an occasional coffee or breakfast not on home turf, her privileges denied (even though I did not actually communicate this to her). On Saturday afternoon, she picked me up to go to Starbucks and as I stepped into her car, her first words to me were, ‘You look like a gaunt monkey’ – ‘I actually look like an ape?’ – ‘Yes’, was her simple reply. Had she said, ‘You look like a gaunt camel’, well, that would have been like water off a camel’s back but ‘monkey’ touched a nerve somewhat – it is true that there are several female members of my family who do in fact look like various members of the ape family. To illustrate to Honey that Winnie is indiscriminate when it comes to making people feel like shit, I shared this most personal of insults, to which he replied, ‘Which one are you? … Chimpanzee?’

I'm a monkey



McGee is Maureen’s cockerpoo – that is the name she goes by when out in the local high street. We are often told to leave dog free establishments and these requests fall on deaf ears – for McGee is a ‘hearing dog’ who works with deaf children at the local hospital and she works heavy shifts and long hours, at the end of a long day she likes nothing more than to go for a Starbucks and we stand up for her rights. As Maureen and I chatter about all her caring ways, people look upon her benevolently, when in reality she is snappy, spoilt little Ms Pietersens in disguise.




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