Blood to caffeine ratio

Today I have had two cups of Earl Grey tea and one large Latte. And I’m a little concerned.

I never used to drink drinks with caffeine in them. I was a herbal tea drinker, you know, a strawberry infusion or peach melba fuzzy. Rarely, if ever caffeine, mainly because I didn’t like the taste.

Now I love Earl Grey, his wife ain’t bad either.
I’ve upgraded from the occasional cappuccino that would make me so wired I’d be running around the office like a nut bag to a Latte that barely registers

What’s changed?

Am I older so my taste buds have mutated to except the bitter liquid? They did with olives, so maybe that’s it.
Am I sleeping less so need more caffeine to stimulate me during my waking hours? Unlikely because I pretty much get eight to nine hours a night.
Is it like the G&T thing where from the moment my mother died I got cravings for it? Spooky, but maybe.

I really don’t know, but just like with many things in my life at the moment, I’m just going with the flow and not standing up and waving too much.



- My mug at work. 475ml of Earl Gray goodness

Old Git

I’m not quite sure how I manage to do it, but I have a habit of picking hobbies that are the domain of old people.

First it was the alpacas. An industry almost entirely made up of 50+ people. That was OK, I coped and even got passed comments about being too young to have alpacas.

So, about a year ago I got a phonecall. It was a wrong number, but it turned out that the male voice on the other end was looking for a version of me of the male gender. Turned out he was for the Book Collectors Society of Australia. I joined and for the next year I received the journal.

On Sunday I went to a meeting. I swear to god the average age there was 70. A lot of raised voices where required and yet somehow I ended up on the committee. I think they just wanted to bring the average age group down to 60.

Too young

I was sitting on the train the other morning going into the city for yet another agent interview when a young Japanese girl got on and sat in the seat directly in front of me. She looked to be in her late teens, but could have been I her twenties. She had her hair in braids in a very Miffy way. She sat there preening herself for about ten minutes without a mirror. I had my iPod plugged in and watched her as I listened to The Offspring describe The Worst Hangover Ever’ and asking to be ‘Spared the Details’. I was thinking about my worst ever hangover that happened while in New York when I noticed sprouting from the top of her head a single course white hair.

I watched as she fiddled about for another few minutes…but the hair was firmly in my focus. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I dug into my bag and tapped her on the shoulder. I handed her my compact. She thanked me profusely with little bows that where restricted by her seated position. Then she looked and sorted out her hair until the light caught the hair. She gasped. Grabbed the hair and tugged. It came out clean. She handed my compact back to me.

As she got off the train at Central she turned to me and said, ‘I’m too young to go grey.’ I smiled and remembered my first grey hair. I was 24. I haven’t seen one since.