I’m working a double-shift at the coffee shop today. This means I get plenty of fodder for the blog entrails.
From our early morning regular, Miss double-soy latte (the so-sassy attorney incarnate) whom I really enjoy:
Oh honey, I can handle all the caffeine you can give me. I’ve already had two shots of espresso before I came to work this morning. Coffee till noon, wine till midnight. That’s my motto.
I particularly get a kick out of working the afternoon shift as it is sunnier, quirkier, and generally less neurotic. And more international folk seem to stalk around the afternoons. Today I got to flex my I-have-a-good-ear-for-accents muscles of culture. The scene begins and ends with a beautiful menopausal-aged woman, whom I’ll hereafter refer to as BMA Lady. (Menopause is not an ugly word. Please put away the gallows, now.) She was undoubtedly from the British Isles.
BMA Lady: I’ll have a small regular coffee and a health bar, love.
Me: Do you prefer the dark or medium roast, ma’am?
BMA Lady: Oooh the dark, please. Thanks, love.
Me: Should I save a bit of room for cream, too?
BMA Lady: Oh love, I’d like that. Thanks ever so much.
After having lived in Portugal down the street from one phenomenal Helen Scarf–whose similar use of the word “love” always seemed to bestow loveliness on the listener, a habit I’ve since tried to pick up– I was totally on to this nice accent. As BMA Lady fiddled with the cream and sugars, I smiled in her general direction.
Me: You’re from Yorkshire, right?
BMA Lady [with a look of happy surprise] Well, almost. I’m from Nottingham, the next county over. But you’re a lot closer than most. I usually get, “You’re from Australia, right?”
Me: [apologizing for all Americans] Oh, I’m really sorry.
BMA Lady: No no, it’s quite alright, love. I love Australia. Great country.
In other local news, one of our homeless friends stopped to celebrate with me that he found a room and is off the street. This is worth throwing a party over. I’ll have to make some streamers.
And this is pretty good news for those of us who drink at least three cups of java each day.
I wish I knew some fun british people! Hoorah for the home-ful homeless!
… and you know Colin’s famous quote after going to Sunday School at age 6 and letting me know that he didn’t want to return… Tina-from-the-great-English-north had led his class and he said to me, “My teacher doesn’t even speak English!” Brilliant!
And here’s another quote, this time from Marty. We’re in a small-ish town on the SE coast of England and we go into a shop. The shopkeeper, an almost Grandma age woman, gives Mart his change and says, “Thanks, luv.” We walk out together and Marty says, “Did she just call me love?”
I’ve actually stopped using ‘love’ myself, some people don’t take it the right way in England anymore. I have found ‘my dear’ a suitable replacement.
I’ve actually stopped using ‘love’ myself, some people don’t take it the right way in England anymore. I have found ‘my dear’ a suitable replacement.
You: apologizing for all Americans.
She: “It’s quite alright–I love Australia.”
me: awkwardly laughing in quiet library
Jenelle, thank you for your sweet birthday message. So nice. And I very much would like to go out with you next time you’re here. Maybe even at Elsie’s (and that place you are thinking of, too). Love you.
This post made me miss you and your people-loving self. I love you Nelly.