JVC’s ‘Going out for coffee’ experience, albeit rejected, sounds pleasanter than mine yesterday in the Portobello Road. I wanted to have a coffee in the cold January air, and the pretentiously named “Joe and the Juice” was the only place with unoccupied chairs outside. There were about 20 people in a space intended for 6. They take your order and ask you your name. I was tempted to say ‘Ermintrude’ or ‘Schnickelpopper’, just to hear them shout it, but I gave them my humble two syllables instead. The coffee, when it finally came (I had to take out a bank loan), was so hot, the assistant advised me to take a sleeve. I found the sleeves, put one on the cup, but it was still too hot to hold. I put another sleeve on it. Just then a couple, apparently intent on infanticide, came in pushing a pram with a baby in it, as I was trying to leave holding a hot drink and envisioning the spilling of said drink on the fruit of their loins…Anyway, I made it outside, where a tall man in conversation with a flower-seller was smoking something they don’t sell in Sainsbury’s. At least there was no extra charge for the passive smoking.
Douglas E., I discovered the clever embedded code in your poem, taking the first letter from each line:
I believe that was a Beatles lyric, though I’m not sure from which song.
Ah, but did you notice the much more subtle message: all the letters are there to spell out “L.C.Smith is dead” if you put them together correctly 🙂
I’m wrong, it turns out. Would you settle for “Corona is dead”?
Comments are closed.