“Have a good one,” has been my casual farewell to friends and family for a while. They don’t enjoy undue piety from me.
I have had another “good one” in my life, but not for much longer.
My favourite cafe is closing down. The place has been crowded in this the last week – I have been attempting to go every day. Like friends visiting the terminally ill we have all been turning up for a last laugh and recollection of good times. We are even allowed to write on the tables now; felts are there to sign our names or signal our everlasting love. It is like signing or painting the casket, which I have seen done a few times. I am not sure if I can bring myself to do it.
It is one of life’s great ironies that I should pretty much have got to the point that I only go to one hard to find cafe in Auckland and they serve Wellington Coffee (still once you get away from shakey town and the weather things Wellington are quite nice) – Supreme. I have said out loud this week, “I am giving up coffee when they have gone.” It isn’t just the coffee. It is the blend – brazilian, which is good for coffee with a little milk – double shot flat white. It is the fantastic “slayer”expresso machine. It is the baristas. The whole combo coming together like a little symphony. (For friends in the USA: the drink you call ‘coffee’ and serve in cups as big as rubbish bins bares no relation to the drink I am talking about here. When I was last in NY in Greenwich Village I found a tattooed youth making an approximation. If he wasn’t so sure he was cool he would realise he has a journey ahead.)
It was such a joyous morning ritual to slip in amongst the bearded ones with beanies and pretend to be cool. I will have to replace this with rejoining the blogosphere; a compensatory activity in my grief.
Goodbye Good One.