A gentle clip-clopping of horse's hooves on the cobbles outside the Coffee Shop of Your Very Dreams heralds the arrival of King Arthur's morning newspaper, and the dawning of a new day here in Camelot. The sun rises slowly, pouring golden light over the battlements and picking out the yellow straw rooves of the township, the air is crisp, and the serfs have been outside the walls weeding the turnips since 4am.
It's just another day in the life of a medieval utopia.
Hear ye, hear ye!
Coffee up, gentlefolk.
A vestal coffee virgin, professing to prefer her men with a good serving of froth, is Lady de Musings, placing an order for a latte, which is big and strong and long. It is also wearing a leather jerkin for reasons of decency.
Merlin was wandering around earlier, prodding at the Uberpercolator and asking me awkward questions about the future, but he scarpered the second Blue Witch popped her pointy hat around the door. He was almost certainly afraid of being upstaged. Have an Americano, my lady sorceress.
A knight in ill-advisedly brightly polished armour, especially on this sunny morning, is blinding the clientele as he accompanies the large filter coffee for my Lady d'Estee...pass the WD40, someone...
Sir Mark of London requests and recieves a large espresso, in the (cleaned and sterilised) helmet of a recently vanquished enemy. Can't have other chaps talking down to one's serfs now, can we?
The rowdy and boisterous Sir Dave de Ciel is kicking up a rumpus by doing an armour-clad can-can along one of the trestle tables...so when he's calmed down or run out of the vast amounts of energy for such a feat, could someone pass him this flagon of mead? Thank you.
Sir Porny Boy de Curtis requests a flagon of mustering disease and ill-health, in keeping with the times. Just to keep our health and safety record at near 100% (no one mention Pompeii, okay?) you can have this large chunk of mouldy bread, which should counteract anything you pick up. I'm sure, seeing as everyone is in here enjoying the coffee and the views of the castle, that no one will mind if you borrow all their serfs to do the chores. Just hurry back. I don't want to clean all this up myself, you know.
Sir Wild requests, in flowery and romantic prose, an espresso, a glass of chilled water and some biscuits, and as a token of admiration for his adjoint bravery and gusto in the recent games, have two biscuits, good sir.
Queen Guinevere! My goodness, welcome! Er, good day, your majesty. Coffee? Pardon? Erm, it's a hot drink, it stimulates the mind and body...maybe not? Chocolate? Well...yes...I think you would like hot chocolate, your majesty. Please feel free to take the table in the window. *shoo Sir Wild, Lady de Musings...make way, make way!*
Lady Hanni de les Chaussettes-Roses very daintily requests a chocolate of the hot variety, to combat her dispair at the weather. I do hope that today's clement and crisp morning sunshine is more to your taste my lady.
The Lady of My Manor, Queen of my Heart, Lady d'Hiboux requests a Hot Toddy to get her day off on the right foot...then the left...and again! That's it darling...see? I told you it wasn't too much whisky. There's a shining white charger outside...isn't it pretty? Oh, hang on, that's not your one, it's not due to be delivered for another five minutes...Sir Lancelot! What a pleasure! Come in, come in. Mead? Certainly. There's a free chair at the table in the window, oh, and of course you know Queen Guinevere. Welcome welcome!
Lady Stephanie de Brune takes a deep breath and orders a Grande Skinny White Mocha, which of course is no problem...no problem...
Sir David of Wootton Bridge requests something easily quaffable...more ale...or a mead? You may join Sir Dave de Ciel with the can-can if you so wish. Double yellow lines haven't been invented yet, so park the trebuchet wherever you goddamn like, good sir.
The impossibly titled Job-for-stu-in-nu-york-achino goes to the good, the great, the chaste (sorry...where'd that come from?) Sir Adrian of Sahthahfreeca, and strangely enough, yes, the coffee has emerged from the Uberpercolator... served up in The Holy Grail!
Oi, Lancelot! Put her down mate! You'll never guess where it was all this time...
*puts on impossibly deep voice*
"I have to push the pram-a-lot!!!!!"
*collapses in a wheezing heap and raises flagon of mead to lips*
Ooh, that's hit the spot. A few more jars of this and I'll be up to dancing again.
ta fella. I need the glass of water to cool the painful tarmac burn on my knee incurred from the gravity games of the weekend.
It keeps scabbing and cracking when I stand up. Smarts mightily, bringing tears to the eyes.
These 2 biscuits are the perfect antidote to feeling sorry for myself.
You know the service around here has gone downhill dramatically - ever since that floozy.. er.. love of your life.. appeared on the scene.
Is she the Monday coffee's Yoko?
;-)
Watch it, I hear that Floozy is a 'energetic lass' She'll 'ave you mate.
Sorry to be an ungrateful Witch, but I don't actually drink coffee.
Could I sit in the corner over here and sup my own mead? It is home made. From my own bees. Probably about 60% proof.
Zzzzzzzzzz
No, no, that's fine BW. People with magical and/or supernatural powers can drink whatever the hell they want.
Gordon...you didn't even order this week, and you're complaining about the service!
Yes, she IS the reason, indirectly, but mostly because I am spending lots of time trying to get to live and work in the same country as her, something proving to be rather time consuming.
you must have me mistaken for some damsel in distress. but this floozy is quite handy with the jousting, sir gordon. en guarde!
i apologise for the knight in blinding armour.
i would give you all sunnies to wear in defence but they haven't been invented yet!
cheers stuart - ace coffee.
Merci bien, Stuart. May I say that the battlements at Chateau d'Autoblog are looking lovely, as well.