Sulkyblue's Blog

I find there's something indulgent about settling in for a good read. Most of the time reading for me is something done in short bursts. When I worked in central London it used to be this was while commuting to work, now that I have to drive to work though, reading on the commute tends to scare my passenger. Daily reading is now restricted to a couple of chapters before switching the light out at night, a good way to gradually slow the brain down and distract it from thinking about the day just gone or the one to come.

My special treat to myself comes at the weekend though, when first thing on a Saturday morning, me and my book walk into Ealing to sit for a glorious solitary hour in Starbucks. This last weekend I was particularly struck by just how much I adore my Saturday morning routine. I loaded up my ipod and set off into town listening to the Radio 4 Friday Night Comedy podcast which is the perfect length to cover the walk there and back. There were a few people out on the common jogging and walking dogs, but it's pretty quiet at 9am on a Saturday, no one to get scared by the crazy woman laughing to herself. I find there's a satisfaction in getting up 'early' on a Saturday, as if you're somehow cheating the universe into giving you a longer weekend then you're really allowed.

I was greeted at Starbucks by one of the regular weekend baristas and we had a pleasant chat about the pleasant weather while she prepared my usual order. I headed to my usual table in the window asking the other early morning reader if he would mind sharing. He perfectly understood that it was accepted behaviour to ask to share a table with comfy seats in preference to one of the empty hard seated tables and we two complete strangers shared a coffee table and two armchairs in companionable silence.

So with my cinnamon swirl, grande chai tea latte and my book I settled into the giant comfy chair and resisted the urge to make a very satisfied "hmmmm" noise. This is my completely guilt free 'Me' time. Sitting at home, even in the garden just doesn't feel the same way, although you try to ignore it you know that there's a mountain of chores loitering nearby, waiting to be done. But in Starbucks, there really is no choice but to sit and read until you've finished your drink. A grande chai latte will last me pretty much exactly an hour. A tall is acceptable for a quick mid-week lunch break, a venti required only on very rare traumatic days, but for a Saturday morning a grande is just right.

This means an hour of unashamed reading. Not until my hour is nearly up do I start evaluating the length of each new chapter to see if it's acceptable to start reading it. Too often when I read before sleeping I end up really wanting the chapter to end because my eyes are closing. It's not the book's fault, it's simple biology and I feel bad for the book. But for daytime reading there's no such force and I can read for hours on end if I can outlast the guilt.

Sitting in Starbucks last Saturday morning I had one of those moments of perfect happiness, reading a book that has not only been on my to-read list for about a decade but has very happily turned out to be truly excellent. Everything faded away except for my latte, my cake and the vivid creation of characters, issues and events which I had never experienced. I sank deeper into my book and my chair until I finally reached the end of my drink and gradually resurfaced to confront the real world - the one outside of my book and outside of my Starbucks.