January 25, 2010
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As someone who doesn't really like hot drinks (yes, I'm English and I don't drink tea. I'll give you a moment to pick yourself up off the floor… you OK now? Good) I'm never sure whether everybody experiences a very small window of perfect temperature, between the points of gum-scaldingly hot and hideously tepid, during which the whole thing has to be gulped down, or whether you've all had the chance to develop resistance through years of desensitisation. I was reminded of this again, wincingly sipping an otherwise beautiful cup of (believe it or not) machine hot chocolate.
Yes, these are the thoughts that occupy me during the day. I am full of hidden depths.