THIS ISLAND LIFECALL me reactionary (you may as well, I’ve been called far worse) but can we please go back to the days when coffee came in two basic varieties — white or black?
My first (and only) foray into anything remotely resembling caffeine sophistication came when Eddie and Gloria Minghella ran their much-missed Mayfair cafe in the middle of Ryde High Street during the 60s.
They invested in an espresso machine, which quickly became the centre of considerable attention.
I’m told they also had one in the old Caribou coffee bar in Cross Street but that was always a bit of a Mods’ hang-out and I can’t recall ever going in there.
But back to the Mayfair, where Eddie would disappear behind this huge collection of pipes and pressure valves.
After much gurgling and letting off of steam (from the contraption, not Eddie) he would emerge with a cup of coffee topped with a sumptuous layer of froth more than an inch thick.
My usual companions at the Mayfair in those far-off days were Ian Groves (he of Stoneham Construction fame) and Allan Cass (one of the finest long-distance runners the Island has ever produced). When our coffees arrived we used to perch a sugar lump on top and bet on which one took longest to sink through the foam to the coffee below.
Considerable patience was required but it always tasted a bit special and this was the closest I ever came to joining the coffee cognoscenti.
My plebeian instincts were reinforced the other day when I visited the Haskins emporium at Ferndown while on a long weekend with the other saga louts at Shanklin Conservative Club.
We stood in the queue for the best part of ten minutes while two women in front ordered their ludicrous confections.
The first demanded a hazelnut skinny latte, or some such thing, and seemed genuinely excited when the woman behind the counter asked if she wanted it topped with chocolate sprinkles.
Their conversation became so earnest I honestly feared they were about to discuss how many sprinkles should go on each cup.
But suddenly their discourse was lost in a welter of words which sounded like mocha, rocha and cocha. They could have been discussing Portugal’s potential Euro 2012 midfield line-up for all the sense it made to me.
The next woman wanted a cappuccino, which sounded mercifully uncomplicated and the rest of us shuffled forward in anticipation of actually being served.
But this was not just any old cappuccino, oh no. This one had to have some sort of peppermint infusion and an exotic top dressing of whipped cream, upon which some crushed substance had been liberally distributed.
The bloke behind me in the queue sighed heavily.
"Whatever happened to the old days of 'a coffee and two teas please, love?’" he said longingly.
Groans of commiseration could be heard right down the queue.
Wot? No double decker for Tim?
YOU will recall a few weeks ago I reported on the exchange of e-mails between miniscule musician Tim Marshall and this newspaper’s gardening guru, Richard Wright, whose weather-beaten features can now be found on the side of a Southern Vectis bus.
Tim asked whether he could be considered for a single-decker and Richard replied a mini-bus would be more suitable. You will see from the photograph sent to me by Mr Marshall that a compromise has been reached.
He can be seen peering over the top of a bar — normally The Chequers at Rookley — requesting that his glass be replenished.
Mr Wright was suitably impressed.
"I can’t think of a face more suitable for the back of a bus," he remarked.
Have we been fleeced by an old saying?
ONE of my regular companions in codgers’ corner at Newclose during the cricket season (roll on May) is Paul 'Misery’ Morris, who is far more intelligent than he looks.
He is also a fund of knowledge about familiar sayings and their origins.
For example, you could be forgiven for thinking 'don’t spoil the ship for a happ’orth of tar’ would have its roots among the maritime community.
Well, according to Paul, you would be wrong.
He told me: "It actually comes from north Devon and is a shepherd’s way of saying that after a young sheep has been nicked during the shearing operation, Stockholm Tar should be applied to the cut immediately, thereby stopping the flies getting in and causing mayhem.
"Ship is a Devon dialect word for a sheep which is no longer a lamb and is undergoing its first shear."
Something else I didn’t know I didn’t know.