Wednesday 25 June. Coffee geeks.
My head is aswim with coffee, both literally and metaphorically. Barbora insisted that I drank all the coffees I made in order to get the hang of what a real coffee tastes like. By the fourth cappuccino I could barely keep it together.
‘Remi listen, are you looking at what I do? You have to make it the hot side of warm, not the hot side of hot otherwise you will burn the milk and affect the taste of the coffee. Can you taste it here? Do you? Taste it. The bitterness of the coffee is because you burnt the milk. Coffee should have a sweet aftertaste, not like this one it’s too bitter. Now finish it and make me another one.’
Friday 27 June.
Proud to say that after two days of intensive barista training I can get the milk silky, that is to say, the right texture. Sadly, I cannot get it the right temperature or effect when pouring and my espresso shots are unsatisfactory. I have nonetheless improved. Met my 92 year old neighbour Peggy in the hallway, she says her leg is still poorly but she’ll manage - must knock on her door and check how she is over the weekend. I found my grey cardigan but have now misplaced my swimming costume, annoying. On the way back from the pool I found a wounded crow outside our tower block. Feathers stuck out of his heart like arrows in a Strongbow advert, whereupon inside I Googled ‘What do you do wounded crow London’. The search threw up the most unhelpful RSPB bird advice site, stating that they are unable to help injured birds. Feeling sorry for the crow I threw a piece of stale microwaved bread his way at dusk.
Saturday 28 June.
Today I served my first cappuccino, it was hellishly busy, but I did it.
|Illustration of "racoon" courtesy of Genny Edwards|