All the predictability of Sharon’s birthday

You can get a decent latte pretty much anywhere. You can’t always get hazelnut syrup, but there’s usually some syrup or other. The thing you can’t get anywhere except in Farnham – or so has been my experience – is a latte with silky milk. And this morning, Sandra made me one. It was fantastic.

Being a Sunday, Sue wasn’t in. I’ll have to wait till tomorrow to see her but it was enough to taste a super smooth and creamy latte. I’ve missed them.

I’ve also missed Waitrose. Knowing where everything is, makes supermarket shopping far easier than wandering around lost all the time, confused by the language as well as product placement.

And here’s the odd thing: I found, this morning, that I’m not that keen on all the comfort. The things I’ve become accustomed to after living in Farnham for over a decade are all too easy and routine. I was a lot happier shopping in confusion in Trollbäcken ICA.

It’s so easy to just slip back into the world you know. But, I realised this morning as I walked into town, my last nine months have been so exciting, so unpredictable that I enjoyed them more than I’m enjoying my return. I also realise that I don’t enjoy the predictable quite as much as I pretend.

But here I am, back to the humdrum of the predictable.

It’s a bit like Sharon’s birthday. Without fail, every year on August 1, it turns up. She will probably never know but I’m sending her my wishes for a lovely day albeit one she’ll be spending in lockdown.


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