Last year every Saturday morning for me entailed serving an endless trail of posh toff twats coffee until my fingers bled and they had all buggered off home.
I used to envy the fact that they could and would swan in and read the Saturday paper page to page (including supplements and the weekend magazines) and literally sit there and get tanked up on caffeine and cake.
So when today I looked at my Saturday schedule to discover that my day was free I gleefully trundled on down to the newsagents, picked up the Guardian and snuck away to the nearest coffee shop to fulfill a little dream of mine.
For the next six hours I sat, I read, I ate and I drank, that's it and you know what, it was spectacular!
I know that the fact I had all the newspaper sheets spread over the table irritated the hell out of the waiter (mainly because I used to be that waiter) but I really didn't give a hoot, it was my day to be that bloke who people in the coffee trade envy and detest and to be fair I think I did a really good job of it.
It is quite literally something I could do each and every Saturday and is one new experience I would like to try and hang on to.
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