Home On The Range

My eyes survey the fine manor house on the hill, the varied woodlands, the playing fields, the burnt out shells of stolen cars...yes, well it had to come, and so today you will no doubt be pleased to hear that The Coffee Shop Of Your Very Dreams is in the garage having it's MOT done, and you're all cordially invited round to my house for coffee.

It isn't the manor house on the hill, I'm afraid.

But still. Things might be a little cramped in the kitchen...there are only the two stools that almost but don't quite fit under the 'breakfast bar', which as a result is only good to sit at if you have no legs, but seeing as we're needing food as well as drink today, there shouldn't be a problem. There's a very wobbly picnic table in the garden, but it's a tit bit nipply outside.

So the majority of people will be drifting back and forth from the kitchen to my room, which should be large enough to take everyone. Excuse the orange wallpaper, and be careful of the back window. The rail falls on unsuspecting would-be curtain openers. Feel free to lounge on the sofa or perch on the bed, open up one of the folding garden chairs or nick a corner of my desk. Move along move along, there's room enough for everyone.

Now, facilities are a mite less sophisticated here than in the Café; my coffee machine, an astounding Christmas present from my (now) much-loved sister Jemma, can only do four espressos at a time. I'm out of regular instant coffee, but I do have a jar of Rocket Fuel, and I think there's some cafétiere stuff in the freezer. In terms of food, ah, I've more or less stocked up on Asda pizzas, but luckily for Green Fairy, there are some Curly Fries in the freezer left over from when Greenhamster came to visit a week or so ago.

So people, I hope you'll excuse me if I can't meet everyone's order today, but needs must...I should have done some shopping yesterday, I know. The kettle has boiled, and as I suspect he'd like it, my largest mug (it has 'Big Brother' on it; an ironic gift from my little sister) filled top full of Rocket Fuel goes to iconic Scottish blogger Gordon. Karen asked for an Americano...which is an espresso with some water, right? A dash of milk (4 pints of Asda's finest semi) and a Fox's Cream...there's half a packet in the cupboard still, by some miracle. If you would like to proceed through to my room, you will find a CD of Bach's Brandenburg Concertos already in the stereo...which is a bit stubborn, so you might have to turn it off and on again a few times to get it to acknowledge the CD is there.

I have some Rooibos Chai which is a tasty caffeine free drink, so for alliterative purposes, they can be for Pixie, Pix and PB Curtis, and Mr. Porny Boy didn't even ask for one, so a coffee for him as well...is cafétiere okay?

Dishing out the rest of this batch of espresso...Mark gets his double espresso in a small white mug with Churchill quotes on, a Christmas present from Greenhamster, who takes his single espresso (ordered via email) in one of the small black espresso cups that came with the machine. Scotland Stuart requests a pot of tea...I haven't got a pot, I'm afraid, but have my next biggest mug...along with Dave, and I'm out of scones, and I think the Fox biscuits have probably all gone by now. There's a packet of crackers...no? Okay. Oops, and a quick espresso for Adrian.

I don't have a soda machine, but I'm sure my housemate won't mind you helping yourself to a glass of fizzy mineral water, Shmeder...and Hanni, you'll have to make do with a glass of milk...sorry...and then we'll wait around for some of the coffee to cool down so that Anna can have her frescato.

What's that smell? Oh, the delectable Miss Fairy's chips are ready. Along with one glass of water and two Asda's own brand paracetamol.

Oooh, and a quick special jobby of a coffee to Krissa on her POTM win. Bravo!

It's a bit crowded, isn't it, despite everything?
Who's for coming to the pub?