it's 09h24, Monday morning. it's reading week. it's a week devoid of lectures but not study. so here i sit in front of my computer looking desperately at my cup of tea and wishing it was coffee. How can we live so close to the good coffee of france, italy and germany and yet ours is powder and comes out of a jar?!!!?!?! oh please, please won't you have mercy on me. please won't full city coffee come to belfast? i'll support you, i'll work for you, i'll even do it all for coffee. yet i still sip my tea, which sits in calmness knowing that in the midst of all my growling about being coffee-less, i'll still come back to it. for it's in my blood.
so if you think of me. go drink a strong, black, cup o joe. let it be of good roasting and full-bodied beans.
and i'll go back to writing my essays on northern ireland politics and culture.
and i'll go back to my tea.