#NaBloPoMo 17 – Coffee? (meditation on a blog post by Josephine Corcoran)


If you came round for coffee these days you’d be offered decaff. Doctor’s orders, I’d say. And against my better judgement (and maybe your interest) I would tell you the whole story: the headaches, the laughing consultant, the brain scan. Another week of knowing nothing and fearing everything. There’s caffeinated too, I would say. Perhaps you would prefer that? For

two months I drank nothing but mint and liquorice tea. I think I am addicted to it now. There was once a band called Licorice. Rupert made me a tape. I loved that album. Played it to death, sometimes driving round in the rain in the dark to send my son to sleep. Listening Cap, that’s it. My favourite track was Keeping the Weekend Free. It reminded me of early Sublime songs. That

vulnerability. In Devon, everyone ends up talking about the rain. What are you reading? you might say, and I would say, Oh, nothing much. A thriller. It’s good, bit of a page turner. Not great literature, but I am enjoying it. The blurb says it is the first thriller to include both ISIS and a PCC meeting. I am off to one of those tonight. I bet there will be coffee. They are so good like that, that attention to

detail. I haven’t listened to it for years. Right now I’m listening to Steve Earle croaking his way through Goodbye. I owe that one to Rupert, too, via his tape of Emmylou Harris. We used to sneak off and change his CDs round, just a few, so that they’d be out of alphabetical order. I still wonder if he noticed. I never knew the word festschrift till I met Rupert. ‘Influence,

that’s what I’m talking about.’ ‘I can’t remember if we said goodbye.’ That’s how to do it. And are you writing you might say and I’d say probably not, can we talk about the rain, or something else, it’s not that important. Sometimes I think I only know five recipes and two poems. I should really get round to reading that Joan Didion from the library. And that Adrienne Rich. Maybe I



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