Coffee in the shack

A day of rain and the odd peal of thunder which disappointed. No storms, no lightning, no drama. But a well soaked garden. I continued my work to make our little refuge at the bottom of the garden a fit place to entertain in; of late I have been frustrated by having to produce cocktails for people within the constraints of a mess that makes things hard to find. Now my surfaces are clear, my jiggers lined up in a row, my shaker clean, my swizzle sticks erect and polished. I even found my long lost supply of cocktail umbrellas.

Ironic, then, that after all that work I sat down not to a mixologist’s reward but to a cup of coffee. But a very good cup of coffee. Ethiopian beans, freshly ground. 

I was otherwise unproductive today. My back is hurting me so I have ordered a new, wider brace that helps me discharge my grandpa duties. Miss A is getting bigger and more assertive so lifting, bending and twisting need proper support.

By evening the sun was back and all was well with the world. Henry was particularly pleased as a feather had got stuck to his nose when he was navigating the cat flap this morning, which had punctured his dignity; the rain then meant he was confined to barracks. It’s not easy being a cat.

I like this photograph. The colours, the objects, the elevation perspective. Reminds me a bit of this entry from three years ago.