A big comedown after my coffee high

COFFEE. I have never understood it. I assumed that on the day I became a real grown-up instead of the pretend one that I so clearly am, part of the graduation ceremony would involve a class where a proper adult would explain coffee to me.

I am a tea lover. Always have been. Except that I love my tea served with lashings of whole milk. Which is strictly forbidden at my Fat Busters club. Nothing full-fat is allowed. The two words themselves are whispered, and only then by the more rebellious group members. It is possible that we should not even think them. Which is fair enough.

But I cannot cope long-term with skimmed milk in my brew.

It was OK for the first few weeks, when I was riding high on the initial weight loss. But now the initial buzz has worn off, I am miserable without my favourite beverage made just the way I like it.

Coffee, on the other hand, I have never drunk, so I wouldn’t know the difference! I have made it for others, can’t be that hard, right? Water, a spoonful of something that looks suspiciously like gravy granules, bit of milk and off we go!

No. I surely have done something wrong. This cannot be how it is meant to taste. Like a mucky puddle of water that has been scooped into a full ashtray, then warmed through.

It was perhaps arrogant of me to think I could fly solo on my first trip to coffee-land.

I must now seek guidance from the experts, aka my local baristas.

For years I have seen them working amidst clouds of steam. Banging away on bits of metal random metal like my toddler let loose in the pan cupboards, daintily adding works of art to the top of frothy concoctions.

I decide to find a long coffee shop queue to stand in, figuring this will give me time to examine the menu while also listening to what other customers are ordering.

Hopefully between the two I can pick up the correct lingo and no one will suspect I am a total amateur.

Two orders down and I am completely confused.

Why are there so many buzz words flying about? What the dickens is a flat white? And did that bloke just ask for his cappuccino “wet”?!

The next woman asks for her drink to be “skinny”. Now that would get a gold star at Fat Busters. I shall also order a skinny one. In fact I will just ask for what she had.

Person at the till smiles at me in a friendly manner. I instantly panic and reciprocate with word salad. Just throwing out random words like latte, venti, skinny, extrahot.

I have no idea what any of these things mean separately. Except the extra-hot bit. The coffee I made at home was lukewarm and surely that made the experience even worse.

Whatever in God’s name I just ordered will at least be nice and warm.

I paid for it and – let me state for the record – coffee is scandalously expensive.

Approximately 10 minutes later it is ready. Barista says my name, then most of my random terms. Except I am pretty sure he says “extra shot” instead of extra hot. Shot of what? Milk maybe? I am too embarrassed to ask.

So I take my cup of mystery, find a corner to hide in, and have a cautious sip. Jaysus, its the most bitter drink I have ever tasted in my life. Like chewing on a stick of raw rhubarb.

Wait! The missing component is sugar!

Obviously sugar is strictly contraband at Fat Busters. But sweetener is greeted by all like long lost brethren.

I find some at the counter and chuck a few in my mystery cup. It makes a lot of difference.

I have no idea what is going on in my mouth, but I like it!

It’s sweet and sour and strong. Very different but most enjoyable! Before I know it, my cup is empty.

No problem – I will simply ask the nice till person for same again, like they do at bars. Because I have already forgotten what I asked for. And this one is so nice I do it again! YES! I GET IT NOW!

This is why bona fide adults are obsessed with coffee!

I feel like I can do ANYTHING! Maybe I should go for a run! Or climb a big hill! Or clean my entire house! Or go to hospital because my heart feels like it is going to explode.

My thoughts are going so fast I can’t grasp them. I am fairly sure I can see through time.

Unfortunately the walls of the coffee shop are closing in. I have to leave now before they squash me.

Five minutes later I have a panic attack in Eldon Square.

I won’t even go into the comedown. Let’s just say it was badness and days later I am still jittery.

You genuine grown-ups can keep your tachycardia and coffee.

I am sticking to tea and being overweight.