The old muffin trick

Yesterday, at Starbucks, my South African friends told me I’d better shop for two days because it was going to rain all day today. They then pointed out the window and said it had already started.

I was a bit confused when I stepped outside because, actually, it wasn’t raining. Yes, it looked like it but, no, it wasn’t.

The bottom of Castle Street showing it not raining

That wasn’t the only news in Starbucks yesterday. Chantelle, the barista who makes the best grande triple shot hazelnut whole milk latte IN THE WORLD, is leaving. She has been given an offer of a lifetime, a chance to change her life. She’d be mad not to take it. So she has. At least she’ll still be working in Farnham.

Then, this morning I saw Andrew. Since I stopped going to Starbucks in the mornings, I haven’t seen him much. He’s always a pleasure to chat to.

He’d stopped in to get a take away for a client (he’s a chauffeur), declaring the smell in the car would be perfect. I then ventured that it resembled the old muffin trick. Had he had a mouth full of coffee I reckon he’d have spat it everywhere. His eyes opened wide with amazement. Katy behind the bar was also intrigued.

When you sell a house,” I said, “It’s a good idea to bake some muffins when you have people round to view the property.

A look of relief spread across Andrew’s face.

I thought you meant something else,” He said as he left to meet his client.

It occurred to me that it would make an excellent t-shirt, particularly without explanation.

I shopped then trundled home. It didn’t rain. Not even one drop.

Then, after lunch, it started. And it didn’t stop. The rest of the day was wet, dull and miserable. Then I served up saffron lamb shanks and the whole world seemed brighter.

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