
I will most likely arrive extremely early or extremely late depending on how the public transport wants to behave on the day.
We’ll go to Costa because their coffee is far superior to Starbucks and I will get a small skinny iced hazelnut latte, my favourite. You will think I’m weird because it’s England and we are wearing winter coats already so why the hell am I ordering a iced drink?
I’ll try and keep a eye on the barista to make sure they are using skimmed milk, but then I’ll get distracted and forget to see what milk is used and obsess about how my coffee taste better than normal and I’m sure they’ve used full fat milk.
We’ll talk meaningless chat for a bit, such as how Dunkin Doughnuts do the best coffee and I can’t wait for them to come back to the UK, then of course because I’m British some comment will be made about the weather.
After nipping to the toilet the conversation will get a bit jucier, talking about the downsides of our awesome jobs and gossiping about mutual friends.
I’ll comment on how I only drink coffee if I’m going running, which I will be after this and then tell you about how I want to enter the Brighton half marathon but I’m worried I’m taking on too much too soon in which you will reply with words of encouragement telling me to go for it but we both know I will probably fail.
Before we know it a hour would’ve passed since our drinks had been finished and we will be going our separate ways, you will drive back, I’ll wait for a bus and when it’s inevitably delayed I will regret not having gone to the toilet before leaving, especially when we go over the new pothole in the road.
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