Black-balled Medicine

I'm boycotting Black Medicine. Well, I occasionally use the Marchmont branch but not Nicolson Street. It's been my preferred coffee shop since I first discovered it; I've led many wayward souls to its hard seating, extolling the virtues of illy coffee to anyone who would listen... but no more!

An important part of the Black Medicine Experience has always been the staff. Even when there's rapid turnover, over the summer perhaps, there will always be a core team who are competent and friendly - even if only to regulars. People like Natalie or Stewart, coming and going over the years, have been the eye of the staffing storm, lending a tone of consistency and (almost) professionalism to the place and helping to keep the atmosphere welcoming. It's gone now, the atmosphere. Certain members of staff (everyone knows who I'm talking about here, except perhaps the people under discussion) have spoiled it with their accents, cliqueyness, omnipresence and need to change the status quo.

Black Medicine NO LONGER SERVES ILLY COFFEE!

I can't count the number of times I've heard people say that they will travel great distances to get illy, and Black Medicine has undoubtably received a great deal of custom because of their choice of coffee. However, a certain faction has nagged the management enough (and that must mean a truckload of nagging because they do not give easily to change) that the coffee has changed. According to these people, illy is a shoddy and inferior blend. They're clearly insane, on top of being irritating mingers.

This has become such an issue for me that I have ended up with a Starbucks Card. I may disagree with them on principle - being Giant Corporate Evil, but at least they are fairly consistent and inevitably friendly.

Nobody is more upset by this situation than I am...

So, last Friday I was walking up the road with my Frappucino when I saw Andrew lurking outside the Dread Cafe, so I stood about chatting to him for a while. Before we had a change to muster resistance, a scary man with a squint and teeth that would make a dentist cry accosted us. We were expecting a quick sob story followed by a request for money but instead received a 15 minute tale of woe - he's not a junkie although he used to be, he doesn't drink anymore, he's got a job out of town and needs a bus pass and would we like to buy his PS1 which Cash Generator wouldn't take because they apparently don't sell them anymore?

A little while later I saw him harassing the staff in Jordan Valley. They were less patient; I think he may have been by that point as well if nobody wanted to give him ten quid for his toy.

I finally got someone to sit for my cloning experiments. It went so smoothly I'm kinda disappointed now.

Well then, here we go.

Blah blah it's inevitable. And yes, It'll never be updated. But it might be interesting and surely trying to write something every day is good for your brain. Surely? It seems I played with blogger, abortively, back in the pre-Google days (shock horror!). I had to tie the address to my Google account. It felt so Web 1.5, I almost wept with reminiscence. Christmas Eve doesn't feel like Christmas at all this year. Perhaps it's because I'm in work; perhaps because I've only put decorations up at work, rather than the usual 3000 lights scattered around me; perhaps because it's so gosh-darnedly warm! Yesterday afternoon the ground was wet, rather than frozen, the air was almost warm and there were birds singing in the naked trees. I still haven't had to resort to trousers yet and yet my legs are not even chilly. Mostly I think it's due to not visiting IKEA nearly enough of late. Christmas tastes of Sweden. Or vice versa. This morning, when waiting for the bus, I had to scurry round the corner to hide because the Crazy Man of the moment was approaching. This chap, rarely seen without a canister of butane up his sleeve, recently accosted me on the bus and started asking for advice on how to gain weight. Which I felt was a little cheeky. He then, a few days ago, caught Stephen and Joe at the back of a bus and started on them. Stephen quickly made a break for the relative safety of Me but Joe, being a good polite boy, couldn't drag himself away and spent the rest of the evening in a contemplative haze. So on seeing Crazy Man this morning I bolted. And now. To work.