zassenhaus

A more indulgent start to Sunday. Time to grind fresh coffee beans before easing into the day.

Separated from industrious weekdays jostled with metal tubes of transport breathless minute needy.

Sunday can flex more.

An easier beginning, the reliable Zassenhaus, retrieved from my time living in a German apartment. There's a moment for contemplation whilst hand milling the roast for the morning's kick.

Examine the day and speculate the ensuing week. Home much? Yeah. Er, except Sunday (away on business). Thursday (flying around), Friday (team pow-wow).

I'll read the papers today; catch up on some news.

And pack for tonight.

today's meeting: cold latte better than hot late

Chilling in an early, sunny cafe this morning.

The default latte has given way to iced coffee, which is served in industrial portions. Unlike the continent, there is no side glass of iced water.

My tactic to arrive early paid off. I could plough through some emails and make a call or two. My colleague was completely melted after running from the tube perspiring a little when he arrived a trifle late.

Judging by the craned necks from others, I think I also made someone's day by leaving my (paid for) newspaper on the table. There was huge shoulder grazing interest throughout my journey for the Sport section, with its big picture of Andy Murray and a similar sized one of the defeated England soccer team.

Like many, I watched the surprisingly close tennis yesterday and wish Murray well for the next rounds. From this morning's display of close humidity, its no wonder they reached for the Wimbledon towels after every rally.

accidental and spontaneous profiterole consumption

I had to crawl out of bed extra early on this Bank Holiday morning and once more make my way to LHR T5 for another quick flit abroad. The roads were clear and I whisked through the check-in/security in about five minutes. I even stopped by the lounge to drink some Executive Coffee.

But I couldn't help thinking that I was all bizzed up on a day when everyone else was in their recreational garb. Of course, by the time I got to my destination, it was back to normal.

By this evening the thought that UK was having a day of stupendous sofa sales and blockbuster television talent show semi finals is just a distant concept.

So Bart and I headed off to a nearby open air bistro, where we cracked open some Cote du Rhone, dined and enjoyed some accidental profiteroles.