My long black this morning came to me with a smile! What a way to start the day….enjoy me it said. There I was, in the window of Floriditas with the sun on my back, lots of smiling faces in front of me and a smile in a cup. November the first has come with a lot of promise – it’s sunny. The whole of October has been cold and miserable. We have been trying desperately to get into some sort of summer spirit but it’s a such a challenge when the weather works against us. Maybe my coffee is a sign of good things to come.
The Sunday morning coffee followed by brunch has become a ritual for our blended family over the past few years….in fact, few is an understatement because Sylvie is now six; we began this ritual long before she was born. It’s the best way to take a bit of time out each week and reconnect. We all have such busy lives. The family group is not always complete, but we are always delighted to see whoever turns up and also any extras that come. The venue, until last December, was pretty much the same. This year though, we’ve branched out and tried many of the other fabulous cafes Wellington is known for
No matter how hard we look when we’re travelling, there are just no cafes that come anywhere to the quality we’ve become used to. The coffee in most Wellington cafes is superb – we are so so spoiled. I was in Melbourne over the weekend for a family event, and try as we did, we could not find a cup of coffee of the Wellington standard.
I often wonder what my parents would think if they could revisit Wellington now. My father was a european; he was brought up used to the cafe scene where men would meet up in the late morning and linger over their coffees – exchanging local gossip no doubt. Sadly the war intervened, family and friends were lost and so the shared time with surviving friends became even more precious. They continued their habit in Wellington meeting every morning in Cuba St at either the Matterhorn, which then was a traditional cafe with sandwiches and sausage rolls and is now an award winning restaurant and bar, or at another cafe which is now long gone. Locals called Dad and his friends the ‘Katzenyama kids’. They must have seemed quite unusual in their time.
My cousin in Melbourne is now 80, and apparently she still meets with her friends for coffee every morning. She puts on her make-up, does her hair, dresses immaculately and walks the short distance to her local cafe in Toorak. I really hope that I’m doing the same when I reach that age – including the make-up.
So here I am – I’ve joined the great blogosphere. Have I chosen the right name? I may change it within the next few hours because ‘Stopping for breath’ implies that I’m always on the run (true) and that I don’t have much time to think (not true). I spend a lot of time immersed in thought – while walking the dog, while swimming up and down the pool, whatever I’m doing – I seem to have my thoughts elsewhere. And what am I hoping for – well, some clarity would be good. And can I continue what I’ve begun? Mmmm good question.