It’s become a tradition now with my old chum E and I – a red cup Gingerbread Latte at any given Starbucks pre Christmas, and this year we were at E’s local deep in the heart of the City of London.
My exuberance for this event has me leaping out of bed – not easy when one is unused to the hideousness that is the London rush hour.
“It’s okay for you corporate worker bees” I said to E in the queue, “You do this every day.”
“Excuse me S, I prefer to refer to myself as an engineer of the capitalist revolution – although I’m not quite sure how relevant that is anymore.”
“What a great term E! I’d write it down but I can’t find my pen.”
“Digital revolution S? Remember that? Put it in your ‘phone!”
Behind us was a long line of sombre faced workers. My efforts at snapping some sparkly pics were not going down well. Meerkat type looks sidelonged me; these were people thirsty for their first fix of the day. E was fidgety and looked embarrassed as he placed the order. “Don’t forget my Starbucks name E – Bruschetta!!”