The Oldest Budding Writer There Ever Was

Someone suggested that because I took an interest in a certain magazine they were dropping off in the cafe today that I must be "a budding writer".

Interesting assumption by her especially given my age. Kind of funny for me in that budding is entirely the wrong word. Yet I am not a successful writer. Or an established one.

I ermed a bit about the budding part, then she said "Oh you ARE a writer."

Was she being condescending. It was all a bit confusing.

As usual, I have no idea what the hell I am.

CATS!

This just made me giggle quite a lot. A lot. If you're a dog person, there is this.

Head's A Mess

Head's a mess.
Feeling tired.
Feeling drained.
Feeling excited.
Feeling blessed.
Happy at random moments.
In daytime sunshine.
Suicidal at 4:48am.
I'm aware.
I don't understand anything.
I want to sleep forever.
I want to be alone.
I want my friends.
Too far away.
I want to live forever.
I'm not good enough.
I missed another moment.

The end.

A Conversation Between Grumpy And Dorothea

I have to start answering the cafe telephone with "Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome, this Grumpy speaking."

Because today I picked up and simply said "This is Lee speaking."

"Hello. This is Dorothea from the Women's Hospital."

St Vincents Hopital is nearby and we have a lot of  doctors, nurses, ambos and hospital admin people as customers, so this didn't seem odd. "Oh yes? Hello."

"I'm just calling to let you know that we have an ET scheduled for Monday."

Slight pause. Was Dorothea shortening this from ETA? For Estimated Time of Arrival? The ETA for a reserved table perhaps? Didn't seem likely as we had no tables reserved for Monday.

"An ET, you say?", I said, craftily stalling for time whilst trying to figure out what the hell Dorothea was talking about.

"Yes."

"For Monday?"

"That's right."

"Okay. Just one thing... what's an ET?"

Slight pause while Dorothea obviously tried to figure out why I wouldn't know what an ET is.

"An embroyo transfer," she explained, a tone that said isn't that really, really, really obvious?

"Ah. In that case I'm reasonably sure you have the wrong number. We're a new little cafe on Getrude Street."

"Ah. Oh. Okay. Sorry. Goodbye."

Conversations with Our Customers - The Bonzer Bloke Award

Firstly, to all the people arriving here after reading my quite old comment on another website about Suspended Coffee, that blog post is here. I'm not sure why my old comment is now so visible but it really is an old discussion, one that is apparently still taking place.

But to the above picture. A while ago in Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome, a customer ordered a coffee and sat down at his table. He was very, very Australian. Nice old gentleman, just, you know, a bloody beaut type.

As I placed his coffee on the table he said, "Now the big question is, what's this plant?", nodding at the twig of New South Wales Christmas Bush we had placed in a bottle on most of the tables.

"It's New South Wales Christmas Bush," I told him.

"That's marvellous," he told me with what amounted to big blokey joy. "That's absolutely bloody marvellous!"

He then actually stood up and took my hand in a big blokey handshake.

Later he came over and we talked a bit about plants. He works at the Botannical Gardens in Cranbourne and is pretty obssessed with native plants. I am not obssessed with plants, so my plant anecdote this day consisted of me telling him about the Regrowth parties we sometimes go to, where hippie ravers spend the weekend regenerating depleted land by day and party by night. The idea of young(er) folk caring that much about native vegetation... I think his eyes moistened a little, in a big, blokey way.

Anyway, today I got a small parcel in the post. It's a collection of postcards taken at Cranbourne Gardens, taken by the big guy himself. Along with the postcards was this note. In case you can't make it out (it took me a couple of reads to get it), It says "Lee, here are some postcards for your Bonzer Bloke Award for displaying the NSW Christmas Bush..."

A Bonzer Bloke Award, eh? Fair dinkum. I'm not taking the piss when I say that I think it's bloody marvellous.

Cafe Dreams

We've been flogged at the cafe over the Christmas/New Year period. I feel properly exhausted, but I've been properly exhausted in the past working for absolute tools who don't appreciate good staff. Sometimes, the harder you work, the more these arseholes seem to despise you. Doesn't make sense.

So. Tired. So very tired. And scared, or nervous. Gertrude Street has a reputation. It's a pretty cool street with loads of very good cafes, bars and boutique designer shops, and we have opened a cafe with a very silly name on that street.

Around three months in, we're still nervous. We still have sleepless nights. We still wake up with lightning bolt ideas or flashbacks to moments where we fucked up. We still struggle with maintaining even temperaments. Money is the fucker it has always been. We still have a long way to go before we're going to feel like hey yeah, high five, we did it, good on us. We're a long way from there.

But right now I can't imagine us not trying to do it. Scary as it is right now, there's a secret little part of me that thinks that one day, we will be doing those high fives. Part of me thinks that we might just pull this thing off.

At the chaotic end of another chaotic day, another short review  of us (not from a friend) came up on Urbanspoon. This one said: "This cafe lives up to its name... Awesome! The wagyu beef burger is probably the best I've had...ever. The Tuscan pie, delicious. Just found my new regular haunt."

The Dreaded One is doing an awesome job. So is the rest of Team Awesome.

Time for me to go to sleep and dream more cafe dreams.