Like most freelances, I live on my wits and coffee. I have my morning rituals and routines (essential for structuring one's day) and my pot of coffee is one of them. I usually brew up between 9 and 11am, depending on how my day will pan out. Having had tea first thing, I look forward to my coffee to get me through the morning spike.
Faced with a very heavy day today, I put the kettle on early and spooned some coffee into my cafetière. I was looking forward to a treat as I had decided to open my stash of Blue Mountain. I had a friend who was making regular trips to Jamaica at one point and he would always bring me back a couple of packets of this precious brew. I was down to my last 125g pack - I had some doubts when I opened it as it lacked aroma but I brewed up nonetheless. The resulting coffee was disappointing - it was thin and watery, didn't have that wonderful coffee smell and it tasted like wood shavings.
It pains me to admit, but I emptied the entire cafetière down the sink, and then the rest of the grounds in the canister went into the bin. So much for one of the world's most expensive coffees. I probably should have drunk it last year, but it was vacuum packed so it should have kept.
Fortunately, I still had coffee in the cupboard so I sit here now with a mugful of Columbian java, able at last to crack on with fuel beside me...