stirred not shaken

 The host in Enniskerry has gone to the shops to get eggs, insisting on walking through the snow despite his fear of the slippery ice. Inside, at the table, try to write this blog. There are sudden bird noises from the telephone left on the kitchen table. birdsong that does not stop.

Remembering the actions  of a young woman from Ghana some years back go over to the 'phone and shake the shiny little machine. Nothing happens. Remembering the girl again, make an irritated face and shake the 'phone again, harder this time.  The bird song ceases, and winter is back.

Decide that this may have been as a reminder to operate the french press on the coffee maker. Take the silver coffee maker and place it in the stainless steel sink and press carefully. This was not careful enough, and some of the coffee squirts up under the lid to flow down the sink's plughole. Then slowly, with less than the weight of the hand, let the plunger sink until it will sink no more. Place the coffee maker on the counter to wait for the return of the host and his wife.

The host returns, he is now coughing loudly and seems unwell. The party last night is blamed, and the gin and tonic so happily drunk then is at fault too.  He says that all is in order and starts to make breakfast for his son, his guest and himself. These are the original poached eggs on toast with a slice of bacon.

Then the bird song starts again, twittering and squawking and is then competently and proficiently silenced. 

Stirred, not shaken