Across Continents

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Price of a coffee

He’d asked if it was ok to go onto the roof today. Kept repeating "McDonald’s of Silver City". Said he lived at home with his Mum. Helped looked after her. Roles, I thought, were probably reversed. Despite his enormous build, mostly harmless. Even caring. But his limited intellect often meaning he’d be misunderstood. I returned to nursing a now lukewarm coffee at a corner table.

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You’d be forgiven for thinking coffee culture is, well, a bit of a luxury on the road. After all, shy of soft drinks in English pubs, it’s a beverage with probably the greatest of mark-ups. Surely best to brew your own. And I do. Whenever I can. Always like to have a small flask of something warming. Great for morale.

But you’d be rather missing the point. Popping into a cafe about much more than a hearty drink. It’s the fringe benefits. A break from the elements and an opportunity to reinvigorate waning spirits. Chance to reflect on the day’s progress, to jot down some notes for the blog. Company. It can be very lonely on the road. Flushing toilets and a sink to freshen up. Often free WiFi. Remembering that even the cheapest of coffees are expensive if you over-indulge.

Outside it was snowing once more. This was expected. As predicted. Which, I hoped, meant it would also clear up in a few days as forecast. Allowing me to return to the road before becoming gripped by cabin fever.

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