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Smelling the coffee

Regular readers of this blog will know that we are all about the life lessons. Today has been no different.

The Boy’s been out with Mam and Dad, and we visited one of the most important shops a man can go to.  If you’re a gentleman you get your haircut at a proper Barber, you buy suits at a proper tailor (or at least buy on eBay suits made by a proper tailor and get them altered), and buy your shirts at a proper haberdasher. Cigars come from shops with large stuffed bears, and beer comes in a pump that you pull, not a nasty carbon-dioxide flip switch.


Today’s lesson, however, was about The Nectar of Life

Lesson #348: real coffee does not come in granules.

Half a kilo of finest beans are now in the freezer, ready for Dad-grinding, and The Boy’s education in life has moved on a step.

Personal views of a wordsmithing, sartorialist, horn-playing, state school Oxonian dad, rugby ref, recovering politico, and fan of vintage tailoring, Ralph Lauren style, and sharp writing.

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