Too many cooks spoil the broth.
Too many words may spoil the meaning.
Tipping the balance from perfect description, muddying the clear pool of clarity.
So, I needed a coffee. Not just any coffee (and I couldn’t face the walk to Costa’s all the way down the end of the high street with heavy bags fast hobbling (we are in a rush).
So I choose a small Italian sounding cafe a bit closer, they must know what they are doing.
So, not granulated coffee, no. Most cafes have machines and frothers now. This looks ok.
A dark shot of quick intensity.
I only have five minutes I tell the Italian looking man behind the counter, nicely, (is that possible for a person needing coffee quickly?)
Coffee makers and hairdressers need not be offended before they provide their service.
I would like a coffee please.. half way between an espresso and a cappuccino.
A small cappuccino,
A tiny cappuccino
An espresso with a little milk and some foam
A macchiato but a bit more than a macchiato?
A macchiato is just espresso and foam? (Macchaito is not listed the converstation is lulling on my side here)
I need a little more, I’m not hard enough to have an espresso but a minute cappuccino, an espresso with a little milk and foam
I have no inclination or time for a milky cappuccino I muse in my mind.
I understand he reassures.
Oh, can I please have one sugar? I like it mixed into the coffee shot so as I don’t break the foam .
I sit outside and roll a cigarette. excited. Anticipating the hit of coffee before my next moves of the day.
A short break. An interlude.
I wait. My time is wearing thin.
He brings me a small cup heavy with liquid covered in froth and a spoonful of sugar piled into the froth and sinking down.
It will take more than five minutes to drink this.
With sinking heart I take a sip.
Hot brown water light on coffee
Sweet, with excess sugar in the froth.
Disappointed and deflated. I missed my chance.
I find a corner to tip away the offending hot sweet liquid so as not to offend.
I’d thought he’d understood. He must have just nodded in agreement at my plaintive coffee demands.
I leave, fastly hobbling with my heavy bags and no coffee hit.
The rain starts to pour lightly.
I suddenly wonder how many breaths ive wasted trying to describe the indescribable only to be utterly disappointed.
Next time, I’ll ask for an espresso.