Espresso Nightmare

This delightful Cafe Gourmand I enjoyed in a garden in Versailles bears no resemblance to my horrible coffee experience today.
This delightful Cafe Gourmand I enjoyed in a garden in Versailles bears no resemblance to my horrible coffee experience today.

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Espresso Nightmare

I awoke this morning with the sun and a gentle breeze streaming through the window. Little did I know the horror that was about to strike. Luxuriating for a few more minutes in my bed, I anticipated the potential joys before me. A quick “toilette” and I emerged in the kitchen resplendent in silk and other natural fibres of a costly nature. THIS IS WHEN IT HAPPENED!

My dear spouse offered to make me a cup of coffee in the new coffee machine!

My quiet contemplation of a vase of lilies was rudely interrupted by my wife’s cries that the machine was taking in water but delicious coffee was not emerging at the other end. I sprang in to action. Where was the coffee? Was the mechanism faulty? Was God punishing us for buying a pretentious coffee machine?

I checked the hopper to see if coffee was dripping down the inside, only to find the entire hopper jam-packed and overloaded with used coffee pods, undiscarded since goodness knows when.

Unlike the youth of today who think nothing of smashing the screens of $1000 telephones and laughing nonchalantly, I come from a more austere time when $170 (after cash back) was a lot of money…and I had just got my cash back.

Naturally I went berserk.

At this point, boiling water started to pour from the front of the machine and spread over the bench top. My poor wife tried valiantly to staunch the flow with paper towels but the machine was in full rebellion. All the lights coruscated and the machine gave out strange growling sounds. The pod hatch refused to open and I assisted in the drama by maniacally waving wads of sodden paper towels about while shouting salient remarks such as…

“Did everyone believe there was a black hole generated in the hopper each time the machine was being used and that the pods fell into it only to appear in a neat pile somewhere on the surface of Mars?” and other remarks of a similar helpful nature with extensive reflection on the relative competence of the users of the machine currently in the house.

Was I being unreasonable?

Of course I was, but I was watching all my dreams of being like George Clooney, suavely enjoying my short black literally evaporating before my eyes, not to mention the shocking likelihood that we had definitely just voided our warrantee.

At this point the machine started pouring out a brown fluid that was not coffee and the scene became more like a horror movie. We grabbed all available cups to receive the gritty muck which was pouring like a geyser from the machine. The water container seemed to be magically refilling when suddenly the machine stopped and, with a final insulting and anticlimactic blurting noise, it ejected 2 of my favourite “Caramelitas” mutilated and mangled onto the bench top.

All fell silent.

I could detect a slight tension in the air as I reopened the hatch an inserted a new pod. The machine, having regurgitated it obstruction, quietly and efficiently made a perfect coffee. I turned smilingly to my wife and would have embraced her with joy except she had taken some unreasonable umbrage at some of the remarks I had made earlier and informed me that she would never make me a coffee again.

I felt compelled to drink the coffee but it was as ashes in my mouth.

I went to work realising that it was true what they say…

“Caffeine is bad for you.”

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