Tuesday 11 December 2018

Lost in the Fog



To extrapolate on that obnoxiously-entitled, first-world-problem of a tweet the other day, let me tell you the full Starbucks sob story. (What? you say, Another Starbucks post, so soon?)  (This one doesn't feature caffeine-fuelled insanity.) 


I'll set the mood:  It was a dark, rainy morning in London.

Our Friday run goes up, up, up to Hampstead Heath and back.  When we started out, it was the nice, pleasant, London mist that passes for rain here, and which I sort of love, and I had literally just mentioned how much I liked it, especially when I was running.  But then a car drove past and splashed me with a wall of dirty water.  And then a full-on cold, soul-sucking splatter of giant raindrops came down, soaking the rest of my running group down to the skin, through three layers (including a water-resistant jacket).  This is usually an eight-mile route, but there were only three of us in our pace group that morning, and nobody was really feeling it, especially when it really started coming down.

So, we had run 6.12 miles, half of it very coldly and wetly.  True, it wasn't that cold out, but we were dripping and cooling down rapidly.  We did a quick stretch, then headed in to our local S'bucks, steaming slightly.

I had dropped off my reusable cup earlier, so pointed to it and asked for a London Fog.

...A London Fog, should you not know, is a lovely and herbaceous tea-based beverage, made with Earl Grey tea, steamed milk, and vanilla syrup.  Oh...did you not know that?
No?  It's probably because you're not a barista.  I, also, am not a barista.  I knew the part about Earl Grey, and that it had milk in it, but that's it.  

I have Starbucks now three times a week, after each run (we are, to bastardize the Hash House Harriers' motto, a coffee group with a running problem).  I do not take these coffees (usually teas, in my case, because, you know, me + caffeine = even more annoying) for granted.  I know that they cost too much, and that it's a complete luxury.  I also know that if I just went home and made myself a cup of tea alone in my kitchen, I'd be missing out on half the point of the running group.  So, I sacrifice.  And I bring my reusable cup (which saves me 25p).

Um...and also for the environment.

But, to be clear, at the exorbitant price I am paying for a tea, or sometimes a tea latte, or sometimes a London Fog, which is possibly also sort of a latte?, I stand firm in my belief that I don't have to know what is in my fancy, far-too-expensive drink.  That falls clearly in the wheelhouse of the Starbucks barista.* 

After a 3-minute discussion that was mostly me saying, "London Fog.  London Fog" at different speeds and volumes, I was presented with a cup of Earl Grey tea with steamed milk in it.**  Because there was a line up behind me (still containing the other two wet runners), I took it.

It was bitter, I was bitter, the ladies and I chatted for a bit, then I shivered my way home, and immediately googled "London Fog ingredients".

I added vanilla extract and maple syrup (ed.  vanilla...syrup), and voila, I was happy.

It's the little things that make a day good.  Like a nice London rain, or a good London Fog.




*I am open to see this from a barista's point of view, of course.  Message me.

**Earl Grey:  without sugar, it just tastes too bergamotty, am I right?

Thursday 6 December 2018

Bada badaba badaba badoo...

Ok, so I taught a bootcamp this morning, and only had one participant so I did the workout too and on the way home I stopped at Starbucks and used a reward to get a large toffee nut latte with whip and when I got home, Chris was there (he's been away), so I followed him around the flat and told him all about how, over the last three days, I put everything back after our move, cleaned up after Tamsin's birthday party, rearranged all the furniture in the living room, got out the Christmas decorations, put up the tree, did all the laundry and booked babysitters for all the upcoming holiday events, trained four clients, went on two runs, and possibly spoke out loud every single thought that came into my head.

Also, I apparently forgot to tell Starbucks to make it decaf.

Tuesday 4 December 2018

And now she is six

Tamsin is SIX!!!  


My smallest, chubbiest, pinkest little baby is now a six-year-old.  She is tall for her age, with gangly long legs and arms, silky orange hair ("It's not red!" she insists), and pale, pale skin.  She is starting to freckle, and her dark brown eyes are sometimes serious, but usually laughing. 

Lettuce remember a few years ago:


Tamsin is imaginative and quick to joke.  She's a hard worker, and a reader like her brother and sister.  She is always twirling, singing, giggling and she's a natural runner.  She's cuddly and affectionate and loves with her whole heart. 

The morning of her birthday was rushed (we had just moved back into our flat the day before, so imagine the chaos), but she didn't mind - she opened up presents before school.

PJs?  No, Tammy Jammies!

We really have to stop letting the kids pick their own dinner venues.  We ate at McDonalds, then rushed home for cupcakes.

The following weekend, we held her party at a local leisure centre and invited lots of kids to run around like maniacs with balloons.  There were a few...um... hiccups with planning and preparation, which resulted in pin-the-tail-on-the-unicorn participants being blindfolded with toilet paper, and the candles being misplaced, so having to use an LED candle and our imaginations to make her wish come true. 
The birthday party - kids, balloons, and unicorns everywhere.

The gang - there was no shot that showed Tamsin's face!

A tired but happy girl snuggles into bed.

Keep growing, sweetheart!  You are amazing!

xo
Mommy

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