It is quarter past ten on a Sunday morning, and I find myself sitting in Caffe Nero in Derby city centre. It’s raining outside, although it’s just a light sprinkling – enough to need an umbrella, but not so much that you can’t romanticise it, especially since the city streets are almost deserted. As I was making my way to the cafe it felt almost eerie how quiet things are, with boarded-up shops telling a story that doesn’t need any words. Even Paddy Power,  my former employer, has now closed its doors to the public, which has saddened me more than I would have expected it to. I actually quite enjoyed my time working there, since in a place like that you build up relationships with the regulars, especially the old boys that sit and watch the ponies all day. Where will they go now, I wonder? 

I’ve ordered a large latte with skimmed milk and sugar-free caramel syrup, and a pan au chocolat, because the skimmed milk balances out the chocolate, just as yin balances with yang. I get a free weekly coffee through my Vitality health insurance if I score enough activity points (which I always do, because I am at the pinnacle of my physical powers), but the only place I can use it is Caffe Nero, which is quite inconvenient really, as the only one within 30 minutes of me is smack bang in the middle of Derby, so by the time I’ve driven into the city and paid for parking, I don’t really come out any better off. Nonetheless, I have come to the conclusion that I should perhaps make more of an effort to use it at some point during my weekends, as it gives me an excuse to sit in a coffee shop for a few hours and write drivel like this.

The cafe is surprisingly busy. Opposite me, there are two women sitting by themselves, both with headphones on, one writing in a notepad and the other watching an iPad, both completely absorbed in their respective activities. Behind me there is an adorable elderly Asian couple, although they both have their faces glued to their phones and don’t seem to be talking at all, which makes them slightly less adorable, and behind them is another woman sitting by herself, middle-aged and quite plump, writing furiously in a notepad whilst also holding her phone, so I can only assume she is taking notes from a call or transcribing something. Behind her is a couple with their young children, which is unfortunate and hardly worth elaborating on. In front of me there is an elderly gentleman, the kind of guy who looks like his name would be Barry and he would have a tattoo of a bulldog on his right arm and a tattoo of his ex-wife’s name on his left, although obviously I try not to stereotype. He is also staring intently at his phone, similarly to the Asian couple, although I would wager that only one of them is reading through Nigel Farage’s X feed. Next to him is a gender-ambiguous teen sitting with whom I assume is their Mother – they look deep in conversation and very happy, which is quite nice, but they do have pink hair, which looks awful and distracts from the wholesomeness of the moment. 

Hopefully that brings you up to speed with the environment I’m in as I write to you. For completeness, I am listening to Lana Del Rey and I have my copy of The Brothers Karamazov in my Waitrose tote bag that says ‘Love Wins’, ready to read for a while once I have finished writing this, just in case it wasn’t obvious enough that I am an incredibly homosexual middle class white man. I’ve also just checked Grindr, on the off chance that all of the gays in Derby had suddenly decided to stop being so old and gross. Unfortunately, I can confirm that they have not. 

I went for lunch at the Crewe and Harpur in Swarkstone with my good friend Luke yesterday. I met Luke last year whilst we were both working at SDDC (he has since departed), and we quickly became friends, which as those of you who know me well will know, is something of a rare occurrence. You really wouldn’t put us together, either, since he is financially frugal, regularly runs marathons, and believes in doing the right thing – believe me, it doesn’t make much sense to me either, but we get on well and our discussions have both range and depth, which is something I treasure immensely. He also now works in Procurement, which he decided to pursue after spending some time observing what I do at SDDC (I know, I can’t make sense of that either), so it is nice to have someone to chat to who understands the pain of what I go through on a daily basis. Anyway, lunch was delicious and conversation was flowing and riveting, so it was a thoroughly enjoyable few hours. Not to be too dramatic, but it is experiences like this, sharing nice food and interesting conversation with a good friend, that make it all worthwhile. 

I went to the gym this morning before coming to the cafe. I did a 40 minute pull session, 20 minutes of cardio, and 15 minutes in the steam room, so I am feeling fresh and ready to go. Getting back into a regular gym routine is possibly the best thing I have done for myself since I took the decision to delete all of my social media several years ago, such is the significance of the positive effects it has already had on both my physical and mental wellbeing. Once I finish at Caffe Nero, I’ve got a table booked for Sunday lunch at The Binary with Mother, Donna and my Granddad, so I’m very much looking forward to that, especially since I began tapering off Mounjaro – I came down from 10mg to 5mg this week, and I now want to consume every single item of food within a 27 metre radius of my mouth, so a Sunday roast is going to get absolutely destroyed. After that, I’m going to spend some time at home, perhaps reading or playing Grand Theft Auto with Sam Morris if he happens to be online, which he has been quite a lot since he had an operation on his knee last week. In all fairness, I do actually feel sorry for him, as it must be hard to sit still for someone who is, quite literally, always on the go. My theory is that he keeps himself so active because he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts, although the fatal flaw in that theory is that he’d need to actually have some thoughts in the first place before he could try and run away from them. Then, in the evening, I’m going to pop round and see Elia, since she has just returned after about a month traversing Asia. I can’t wait to hear about what a wonderful time she has had, but I especially can’t wait to tell her about the seven existential crises I’ve had whilst she has been gone. 

I’ve just had a sudden burst of deja vu. I am almost certain that I have sat in this exact seat, in this exact cafe before, writing a blog on my laptop as I am now. I mean, it’s not exactly implausible – I sit in a lot of cafes, writing a lot of shite – but this felt very precise. I’ve just searched my website to see if I can find a blog that fits the description, but I cannot, although I did find a piece from October 2021 that bemoans modern work culture and the relentless focus on productivity and optimisation. I mean, I am nothing if not consistent, even if I am often just regurgitating thoughts that I already had four years ago but then completely forgot about (I fear this is the case more often that I might realise or care to admit). 

I am going to stop there, since I just read that blog from October 2021 in full, and I now fear that I have absolutely nothing original left to say. There is an elderly couple sitting opposite me now (it’s been an hour since I started writing), sharing a coffee and doing a crossword puzzle together. Life is such a beautiful thing.

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