Aged 38 (and one week) I have found something new in life that I thoroughly enjoy. This is a pleasing revelation because it can become easy to settle into a lifetime of routine that soon renders every day, and every week, much the same as the last until suddenly another year has passed with little to account for the elapsed time.
This new found pleasure is the seeking out of cafes, tea shops, and niche eateries. Recent trips to Oxford have revealed an innate ability to spot purveyors of momentous liquid refreshment and culinary delights. The hunt for new coffee flavours to tantalise my tastebuds, aeropress and Turkish styles have been recent highlights. The search for exotic and tantalising teas; currently I am being lovingly caressed by a super matcha green tea latte. And the holy grail that is clean food that fits my clean lifestyle. The aforementioned matcha is being accompanied by raw energy balls.
But it's not just about the food and drink, it's also a matter of atmosphere. I was saying to adorable wife at my last find that you want one of two types; either a bustling hub of activity such as the place we were enjoying our respective drinks (chai latte for me in case you were wondering), or a quiet pocket of zen where you can dream away an afternoon. The middle ground is my least favourite. Not full, not empty simply allows for the pockets of noise made by other patrons to become more intrusive, rather than blurring into the murmuring soundtrack of a busier space. Rather than lose yourself in the calm or the storm, you find yourself an unwilling participant into another conversation, one to which you cannot even contribute.
This place is small and pleasingly busy. Not manic mind you, everyone is maintaining the respectable chit chat volume that befits a dreary bank holiday Monday afternoon. I can hear occasional snatches of conversation, the one to my left has been rather heavy, focusing on the UK arms trade. Unlike the last time I over
head a guy chatting to a gal in a cafe this high-brow discussion doesn't strike e as pretentious, he is engaging and verbose, and she is responding. The pauses in conversation seem comfortable and I have high hopes that if this is a burgeoning relationship, it is likely to be a strong one.
The last thing I love about this idea of heading out to drink is the very thing I am currently doing. I have this tablet and for a long time is has languished with little to do but stream music to the av receiver. It was on a whim, totally unplanned, that on a recent solo outing I grabbed the tablet and shoved it into my bag. I'm not sure what the plan actually was, but the moment I seated myself in a tea house window it immediately occurred to me I could write. Suddenly I was tapping out word after word and to my surprise full, cohesive sentences were being formed. This was working!
It must be the lack of homely distractions; TV, internet, DVDs, blurays, cooking, even cleaning! The distraction that replaces them are strangely inspiring. Isolation actually stunts the blogger creativity.
I'm not sure this would work for novel writing. Perhaps the early creative stage, when ideas and characters are being forged, but not the setting of story to screen. I suppose I should try it out one day.
I've finished my drink and energy balls and the room is starting to fill up again. Time to move on. I have a page of writing that now serves to prove the point I was making.
This guy to the left might be trying a little too hard after all. But I like him. Let's root for them, let's vote for love to win.
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