I met Lil’sis for a catch-up coffee. She’s all shiny-haired and stylishly attired. We perch on our cafe chairs like good little patrons and snippy-ly await our beverages. We always order the same, which is unusual for me, one skinny latte + one flat-white. I love our coffee breaks.

Coffee with Lil'sis | Photo courtesy of Moi

Once our orders arrive, addiction slightly abated; we’re free to delve into the family gossip, who makes the better coffee (family get-togethers are a battle of the barista’s) and why; WHY?!? does someone insist on putting a heaped teaspoon of International Roast into a giant mug? Coffee pleasure is not achieved by cup size. If it’s bad, I’m not feeling appreciative because you’ve given me a scant litre. Are you trying to burn a hole in my stomach? We both shudder and gratefully sip our beautiful, creamy full-bodied brews.

I don’t even mind the universally uncomfortable cafe chairs – who are they designed by? But in the moment, I don’t care. My modest-sized coffee is that good.