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Signs of a Love Affair

I am in love. I don’t quite know how it happened or even when, but I am definitely in love and this time it’s forever. Pete will be devastated I know, but he will come to terms with it I’m sure. I just couldn’t resist the smooth, dark sensuality that was offered to me. With all the right buttons pressed, I’m suddenly transported to another level within myself and all my senses are enlightened.


It all began one Saturday afternoon when we went for a trip to The Trafford Centre. With it’s towering Roman like pillars and gold painted trims, I’ve always considered this place as a temple to the god of high street shopping.


It’s not always easy to convince Pete that it might be a nice idea to do a bit of clothes shopping at the weekend. Suddenly that mountain of unmarked Year 11 mock exam papers and next term’s planning look a lot more appealing than they did the moment before I suggested a family clothes shopping trip! But, eventually he relented.


“So, have you got your list with you?” It was the first thing Pete said to me once we’d entered the palatial building.


“What do you mean, ‘list’?”


“Well, so you know what you’re getting. That way it makes it quicker.”


“What?! This isn’t a supermarket you know? We’re not doing the weekly shop! I don’t know what I want until I start looking.” That shut him up! I’m sure I could see some of the colour drain out his face.


Surprisingly the day went quite well. Pete perked up a bit when he realised every shop had a Sale on, so he wasn’t having to spend quite as much as he’d first thought. That and the fact that the restaurant we went to for lunch served real ale.


We were just heading down past our final string of shops on our way back to the car when I noticed a shop I had never seen before: Nespresso Boutique. The sign and window frame were coffee coloured and trimmed in black. In the shop window were many shiny metal coffee machines placed expertly to give a feel of being classy and expensive. It was clear what the shop sold, but what made it a ‘Boutique’? Before I knew it I was inside. The walls were adorned with sleek, stylish machines: glossy and sporting many different colours. At the back of the shop was a circular bar, of sorts. Stools placed neatly underneath the clear perspex. At a closer look I realised it was actually a clear lid, showing off hundreds and hundreds of different coloured metallic coffee capsules. Each encasing a different flavour, variety and strength of coffee. This place was for coffee connoisseurs. A woman spoke to me. She had short, blonde hair gelled into a stylish quiff and was clearly at least ten years younger than me. Soon, I was holding a warm cup of, according the young girl, the world’s finest coffee. With one sip I came alive in a way I never knew was possible. It was as if my tastebuds were the ‘on’ switch to every sensation in my body. It was like tasting a fine wine and having the ability to appreciate every flavour and note within the bouquet.

I have to say that I never knew coffee could have such power over me! But now the glossy new machine stands on my kitchen worktop like a cairn at the peak of a mountain, telling us we have finally reached the pinnacle of coffee drinking. I take my small blue porcelein cup from the cupboard and place it on the silver, grated plate. Placing the shiny colourful jewel of a capsule in the assigned slot, I pull the handle to pierce it and press the cold, black button. Instantly the magic begins to happen: I listen to the glorious bubbly and crackly sound of hot water searing through the machine and permeating the encased granules. Within seconds the hot black liquid splutters through the silver spout into my small blue cup, wafting warm, woody, biscuity notes.


Sadly my new love has come at a cost, and I hope Pete will be able to find it in his heart to forgive me when he discovers the destructive effect this passionate love affair has had on our bank account!



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