Goodbye, old friend

Over the holidays I had to bid a fond and tearful farewell to an old and very reliable friend. We’d been together for the decades. This friend got me going every morning throughout the writing of Unethical Practices and Rum Do. I’ve known for a while that this old friend didn’t have long left. On December 27th the end finally came. In the morning, I switched my old friend on and nothing happened. No light came on, no gurgling ensued, no cappuccino was made.

Yes, it’s true. Jane’s old Salton cappuccino maker (sold to me when she moved to an electricity-free island and pictured above in a 2013 garden blog post) is no more. Bereft of life, it rests in peace.

Goodbye, old friend. And thank you.

What to do? I know there should be an appropriate period set aside to mourn this loss, but it is a truth universally acknowledged that a writer in possession of an idea for a new novel must be in want of a cappuccino every morning.

And so to Colleen’s, the island’s magical mystery store and the only location where a cappuccino maker could be purchased without getting on a ferry. Knowing my friend Salton was on life support, I’d previously checked the options. They were all high end, all out of my budget range, but I knew there was a Boxing Week sale. Worth a look. Alas, even with 20% off, the cheapest high end option was still too rich for my blood, which I explained to Colleen.

“What if I made it 30%?” she asked.

“What a temptress you are,” I replied.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before,” she said.

Oh, what the hell. There was still a bit of contract money left, although not as much as I needed. On the other hand, what, other than wood in the shed to keep the house warm in the winter, does a writer need more than a good cup of coffee in the morning?

“Sold,” I told Colleen.

Meet my new friend, Breville.

May my new friend be with me as long as my old friend and may Breville give me the same morning kick start Salton did.