Cyril liked to have a coffee midmorning. It provided a break from sitting at the office desk. Not that he didn’t take his mug of coffee to the office desk to drink, but it was different. He didn’t have any of those fancy gizmos that sophisticated offices have. There was simply an electric kettle sitting on a little table next to a plug, a jar of instant coffee, and a jar of sugar. Anyway, there was just Cyril and his secretary.
When Ivy his secretary left for a new job, Cyril didn’t replace her for several months. During that time, to be honest, he simply couldn’t be bothered making a coffee midmorning. It’s not that he didn’t want one. It just that he really couldn’t be bothered having to wash his mug and teaspoon first. And then if the teaspoon was wet the instant coffee would stick to the spoon, and how does one then use the spoon to get the sugar out of the sugar jar?
Eventually Cyril hired a new secretary. Delesia was the perfect secretary; pleasant, efficient, capable, hard-working.
On her first day of work, around about half past ten, she announced to Cyril that she was taking ten minutes of time out, and would he like a cup of coffee?
Would he what! What a dear creature! Yes please!
That was years and years ago. This Saturday they will have been married for forty-two years.
Weave a Web 
Sometimes it doesn’t take much. What a nice story for a Sunday afternoon.
LikeLiked by 2 people
My goodness! We’re well into Monday over here!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
So Delesia didn’t poison the coffee or push Cyril out of a 17 story window? Cyril is one lucky character.
LikeLiked by 2 people
After 43 years of marriage and Cyril had turned Vegan, she made a cherry pie and filled it with vegan-acceptable arsenic.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Now the world just seems…right again.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It must have been great coffee! Is that really your garden at the minute, all covered in frost?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes! Although I have cut back the dead dahlias (which in the picture are just below the two W’s!)
LikeLiked by 1 person
First come work, then comes coffee, then comes baby in a baby in a baby carriage.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Both ends sound like a lot of work with a quick coffee to keep one awake.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A baby INSIDE a baby INSIDE a carriage? I thought the double-baby stories were just that, just stories… can we all just aleatorily craft one such baby? Must we be wary of signs, like a double-moon, or stories from Bruce that do not contain the gruesome deaths of all males involved?
LikeLiked by 2 people
In the end I take life as it comes, João-Maria. My wife has never has quadruplets and that means I had to try four times as hard to get the same effect. Or have I missed the point?
LikeLiked by 2 people
I do not know, Bruce, as I do not enjoy the company of humans. In fact, I only got here because I thought you were a veritable goat and a sensual one at that. I’m habituated to the disappointment, though.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I always took that rhyme to be a celebration of childhood cannabalism. Alas, we may all be sore astray.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Awww. I needed a happy story.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks. As you know, happy stories are my trade mark.
LikeLiked by 1 person
😉
LikeLike
In between the lines of stories, you have presented three characters and a union, and the conundrums of making instant coffee. As for the future, I am ignoring the averments made in the foregoing discourses.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Indeed most averments should be ignored. There’s nothing that a good cup of coffee wouldn’t solve.
LikeLiked by 1 person