Break Time

In this life there are spooners and shakers. The spooners like the comfort of boundaries. When someone says “I’d like half a teaspoon of sugar with my coffee”, a spooner will diligently measure the requested amount of coffee and sugar, and you can be assured that your hot drink will be served at a reasonable strength and just sweet enough.

Shakers, on the other hand, live life on the edge. They have no need for utensils! Instead they prefer guesswork. You cannot be guaranteed consistency with a shaker. One day you might receive a potent, dark coffee that’s bitter and acrid until you hit the bottom where the unstirred heap of sugar (measured by eye) makes you gag and gives your pancreas something to think about. The next day, you may have a cup of slightly caffeinated, watery gnats wee and you chastise yourself for relinquishing control of your morning coffee.

I say this because in an office where people regularly offer to make you a drink, you have to choose wisely. Knowing who the spooners and the shakers are can be the difference between a good Monday morning and a bad one. However, there is one pitfall with some of the muckier spooners which could muddy the friendship between tea drinkers and coffee drinkers. It’s dirty habit which led to my cartoon of the week…

Break time

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Office Kitchen Chit Chat

Last week my good friend and colleague, V, left our little team of four to return to her homeland, Ireland.   In the year since I started, the four of us had become a well-oiled machine and despite having quite different personalities and interests, we gelled remarkably well.

V was perhaps my closest colleague and I enjoyed our daily routine of coffee making in the office kitchen where we would put the world to rights, discuss the weather, children, holidays, work and inevitably our weight.  She’d often bemoan the fact that she’d expanded out of control since having her daughter and I’d tell her how I used to play a variety of sports that meant I could see my feet without having to physically lift my belly upwards and inwards.  Ironically, and more often than not, these conversations took place as we both reached for a piece of cake from the endless supply of calorific goodies brought in by colleagues celebrating birthdays, holidays, house moves, the Grand Depart, football or just living.

There were two such conversations that still make me giggle when I think of them. The first involved an ill-fitting cream dress that V had shoehorned herself into.  She exclaimed that the multiple rolls of flab, accentuated by the tight dress made her look like a giant ‘witchetty grub’ – an image that fills me with mirth.   I hasten to add that V is not actually very large at all which makes the stories all the more entertaining.

I decided to draw the second conversation because it just sums up our chit chat.  I shall certainly miss V as I make coffee on my own and look longingly at the cakes.

V