I’m having a day on my own. My son is at nursery, my partner is at work, and I’m not. Instead of spending it at home actually getting on with my list of things I need to do, like finishing working on the car or working on my endless procrastination-fuelled projects, which I promise I’ll get to. Soon. Probably. No, instead I’m sat in a coffee shop, set up at a table in the corner by the window with my laptop, editing a few recent chapters I’ve written. It’s nicer than being at home at the moment because it’s another uncomfortably hot day. Off the back of the last heatwave, we had four days of more tolerable temperatures, which gave me a chance to work on the car, but now the air temperature is skyrocketing again. Here though, they have industrial-strength air conditioning, Wi-Fi, and most importantly, coffee. It’s too hot for hot drinks though, so instead I’ve gone for an iced frappe millionaire toffee thing, which is a caramelly, sweet milkshake-type drink blended with ice and a shot of coffee poured into it, and I have to say it’s incredible. I’ve also just inhaled one of their passionfruit cheesecakes as well and feel sick, but it was worth it. I’m sat just in earshot of the till as well, so I can hear people's orders. Most are just standard drinks, a lot of cold drinks understandably, but the odd ones are the extra special double single-shot soy-free soy latte with a single drop of goat's milk, no cream, served lukewarm in a sustainably sourced recycled cup poured whilst standing on one leg whilst singing “Chocolatte” by Soul Control.
I’m also sat people-watching. I love sitting and watching the world go by. Everyone has their own story. Every passing face has their own story to tell, and in their world, they’re the main character. Every day, passing faces that we may never see again have their own talents, their own secrets and tragedies and problems and world woes and dreams, some achieving their dreams and some just starting to chase them. But when they walk past, they just seem like characters in our own story, background characters in our own novel. Every single soul that wanders past the window have their own backstory. As I’m sitting here by the window of the coffee shop, looking like some creature from a zoo, sitting with a laptop pretending to know what it’s doing, I can see what is a very busy high street. Because of the summer sunshine, it's brought all the tourists out, meaning it's very busy, even for a Friday. They say don’t judge a book by its cover, which is true, but sometimes the cover gives away just a little hint of what the story might be inside. It's amazing sitting here, watching people from all walks of life: holidaymakers mixed in with people starting work, some finishing, shoppers and people who just hang around the high street all day. , meeting friends and meeting up for the day and even someone arguing. I hope they’re ok.
When the door opens, I can hear a busker as well, singing his heart out, raising money for a charity.
I can also see a few of those people who purposely try and cross your path, asking for you to sign up for something or other, selling you energy, or signing up to donate, and stuff like that. It’s like they know if you’re busy or not as well. If you’re not in any rush, they won’t bother you. But the second you have a time limit, or the car parking is running out, they’re sprinting after you, trying to get you to sign up for a new internet package. I did actually show some interest once, needing to get fibre internet instead of the cable we use at the moment, and after twenty minutes of sales pitches and talking, I then found out they don’t actually have fibre internet here yet. The best part, though, was they still tried to sell the package to me. I totally get it though, and I totally respect that they’re trying to meet targets and quotas, and they’re always such friendly people, but when I’m clearly in a rush to be somewhere, don’t try and sell me a TV package.