With Tessa at the Garage Lounge Southsea

I can't resist eateries like this - ever since I've stopped drinking, I've taken to indulging myself with cappuccinos and pastries - I used to love the taste of drink - I would imagine gentle flames flickering over my bones as I became tipsy - I would laugh at my own witticisms - even the smell of potent ales would make me dizzy - I would gulp down Sancerre or False Bay Pinotage like an indolent flaneur - 

But now, I share a bottle of beer with Anne every Friday night - living with cancer has made me review my drinking habits - 

The pastries here are presented beautifully - they look like Nicholas Hillliard miniatures - you feel like a brute when you snarf away - 

Underfoot are scrubbed bare floor boards - sofas and chaise longues are arranged artfully - gilt mirrors reflect the louche street outside - there are rows of glass jars, filled with exotic teas - a Morrocan lamp hangs from the high ceiling - 

I try, shamelessly, to eavesdrop conversations - Tessa pours out her cup of tea from a white teapot - I grin whilst lifting my cappuccino -