No coffee, no coffee in the gaff
Which is fine, it ain’t my gaff. This ain’t my burden to bear. Unless I want coffee, which I do. I badly want coffee.
I feel like a little druggy again rattling around, looking through cupboards. It’s 7am, on a Tuesday. The local shop doesn’t open until 9am. I’ve checked the freezer, sometimes Americans leave it in there for god knows why. Maybe this American abides by British rule when she’s here. She goddamn better, that should be on the visa application. Where’s the coffee? In the cupboard. In ya come 🇬🇧
I could go over the road to the B and B and explain I just want breakfast but no food just as much black coffee as they have to hand.
I’m blaming J##, he made this FUCK OFF MASSive pot of coffee on the wedding morning that nearly killed the groom. It was so strong, i’m not joking I was wired all morning.
I plan to trick my body with some old decaf (ew decaf) pods (ew pods) I found for the machine until the shop opens.