Fluid Dynamics
I have a confession to make. So here it is: I don’t drink coffee.
Not one of those earth-shattering confessions, I know. It’s not a revelation that I’m actually two people, or that I’ve been dead all along. But, from the reactions I get from people, it seems to be considered a little unusual. It’s like saying you’re not a fan of breathing, or that no, you wouldn’t like to win the lottery thank you very much.
The typical reply I get when people find out about my coffee-averse nature is for them to suggest that I’m being sensibly healthy, as if it’s a puritan choice I’ve made to extricate myself from the grasping clutches of caffeine in order to become a god amongst men. That’s not the case though – I scoff enough chocolate to easily make up for the lack of caffeine in my fluid intake, added to which there’s a regular can of Cherry Coke that makes up my afternoon ritual on workdays. Coca Cola ranks slightly below depleted uranium on the ‘good for you’ scale.
The reason I don’t drink coffee is this: I don’t like it.
I know it’s supposed to be an acquired taste; kids hate it, but for teenagers it becomes a grown-up thing to do, then by the time adulthood comes coffee is just a natural part of social life. The rise of all the Costa Bucks and Star Neros cafe-genericae shows the power of coffee culture. All these places have a range of options for coffee-dodgers like me though – hazelnut hot chocolates seem to be in season at present. Mmm, nutty.
Yet not drinking coffee still causes awkwardness – I remember a friend crying in bewilderment “But you don’t even drink coffee!” when finding out I was reading a book about the bean’s history. Equally, there are bonuses: I don’t have to get involved with making drinks at work, especially since I don’t drink tea either. Which, incidentally, to me tastes like hot, wet cardboard – I genuinely struggle to imagine how anybody could drink that stuff at all.
Nevertheless, there are signs that I might be changing, slowly adapting as I’m worn down by the constant presence of coffee around me. Last summer, I discovered frappuccinos, which although not exactly your traditional mode of coffee, are a lot closer to it than I usually get. So in ten years time I may find myself a happy part of normal coffee-driven culture. Of course, knowing my luck, by that time the rest of society may well be fixated on beverages made out of pine bark and squirrel droppings or something and I’ll be causing just as much bafflement as I am now.