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The. Sorriest. Coffee. I. Have. Ever. Had. The. Misfortune. Of. Having.
While not strictly true, since I once salted (eeeek) a cuppa as I sleepwalked through the kitchen for my caffeine fix, Cebu Pacific’s “brewed coffee”, was-- on preponderance of evidence, in satisfaction of that considered substantial, beyond all reasonable doubt, verily, verily, past any quantum of proof by which coffee goodness is gauged-- the sorriest coffee I have ever had to pay for.
Premium, my foot! Yeah, yeah. And I'm the Queen of Bathsheba!
Miko declared that she was done with hers after three unsuccessful attempts to convince herself, it was indeed coffee, and not wash water; but I had about P40 worth of mine before I gave it up for... well... the sorriest coffee I have ever had to pay for. But I wasn't the one who couldn't resist telling the flight attendant how terrible it was.
Pink guava juice at check-in was just the thing to counter that disastrous drink!
Fresh fruit and flowers are love.
It’s not as if we were tired, but we couldn’t drag ourselves out of the room, and spent a good three hours engaged in our favorite pastime, Aimless Talk, e.g. discussing, among other monumentally meaningful things, whether there were indeed tomato plums (we know there are plum tomatoes).
The certainty with which you make a statement is frequently half the battle, much like law school recitations.
Cynch: Plums that taste like tomatoes cannot be anything other than tomato plums.
Not so in this instance.
Cynch to Self: They are red plums, you plum!
Incidentally, Annsley is convinced that boys are such red plums. (They are a bunch of grapes as well, but that is another story from another trip for another day.) They promise so much and deliver so little. Of course she didn’t say that. I did. But the beauty of blogging is that you can put words in other people’s mouths. Unless Annsley, of course, and by right, exercises her superduper mod powers, very prior restraint-ly, in which case this portion will be expunged or otherwise annotated.
“On the hottest day of the summer of 1935, thirteen-year old Briony Tallis sees her sister Cecilia strip off her clothes and plunge into the fountain in the garden of their country house. Watching her is Robbie Turner, her childhood friend. By the end of the day, the lives of all three will have been changed for ever and Briony will have committed a crime for which she will spend the rest of her life trying to atone.”
A says:
**Contains spoilers (,incoherence and unmitigated bias)**
What’s the crime here? Perjury? Hardly exciting --- Opening on 30 August 2008: "Perjury". Only in theatres. Yeah, not exciting at all.
It’s tricky: you get sold to read a whole 500 pages by the blurb on the back cover and you don’t even hope the book delivers --- you know it will. You then get further drawn in by the first few paragraphs with their incisive insight into the human mind (and, for me in particular, into a wanna-be author’s) and you don’t even wish the book sustains it --- you know it will. Unluckily, this one doesn’t do either. Only a few chapters on and Atonement changes from mildly interesting to wildly telenovelaic ---