No Country for Old Coffee

It's monday morning and the sun is shining and I am sitting by my computer with an espresso that has just been handed to me. I act grateful, put on a smile, feign sincerity, but secretly I am thinking I should get off my backside and open a new packet and make it again.

For the coffee beans that have come thousands of miles and have been grown for months soaking up those volcanic nutrients somewhere in South America, it seems a shame that their fate should rightfully be down a plug hole without having the opportunity to impress. I should act like Simon Cowell and give them short shrift and send them packing. I consider the risk benefit of the effort to make the coffee again with fresh beans against the increased pleasure that I will attain. I am ashamed to say that I choose to benefit from the saved effort.

Ten minutes have gone past, I have had one sip and now it's gone cold!! That one sip had been enough. The beans have had their opportunity and I have blown it, not because I didn't drink them, but because I didn't have them last week. Now that is a shame.