I think I just broke up with my coffee shop. Again.

I’m a creature of habit. Love a morning routine that can roll out, even when I’m not fully awake. I’m also an addict. To coffee. Never is there a day that doesn’t start without some caffeine. (Actually, there was maybe one or two days in 1994…)

My first coffee is via a machine in my kitchen. Not the strongest or most delicious, but a small hit nevertheless. It’s the second coffee that really counts. I allow an extra ten minutes in my morning commute to drive to my local coffee shop to purchase one for the road. I’ve been going there daily (except the weekends) for a few years now. I don’t need to tell them what I want. My keep cup placed on the counter is the order. There’s a level of comfort and lack of judgement in our company. They’ve seen me at my worst – some mornings it’s hard to function – and my best. Looking good girl. I’ve been served by pregnant baristas and then later chatted about their babies milestones and birthdays. We’ve shared weekend tales and spoken about the crazy weather. Along with the filled cup is always a smile. They know my name and I know theirs. That ten minutes is vital to my day.

More importantly, for some people in lockdown who are only permitted to leave home to buy takeaway coffee (and not actually sit and enjoy the privilege), the barista is the only person they might physically speak to for a week, or more. Their presence provides some sense of normality and human connection.

However, now I’ve just left my job. And my commute. I don’t need to go in that direction, at that time, any more.

I haven’t the courage to tell my coffee shop either. It’s not you, it’s me. I’ll probably just disappear. Hopefully it won’t be awkward. When I get a new job, there will be a new commute and a new coffee shop. And like others in the past, I’ll probably break up with them too.

So, lovely coffee shop, thanks for the good times and the great coffee. Thanks for being a part of my day. I know we’ll see each other again. And hopefully, I’ll be forgiven for doing the breaking and moving on.