Tag: coffee (Page 1 of 4)

As The Sun Sinks Slowly … Somewhere.

31/07/2025 / Maureen / 8 Comments

Will I beat the deadline and squeeze another post in before the sun sets on another Ultimate Blog Challenge?

I may have listened more closely to the gentle guiding forces that suggested I rise from my bed a little earlier this morning, thereby avoiding a potential catastrophe. Not early-early, just 7.30ish, which is early for me. By a little after 8 o’clock I was showered, dressed, and had made my bed (that’s a safety procedure so I’m not tempted to jump back into it on a cold day).

With a large glass of water in hand, I perused emails and checked Facebook to see how much the world had changed while I slept. It seems nothing too drastic happened and I could confidently step out into that world later today.

Then came an unexpected knock at the door. It was a plumber, sent to check the temperature of my hot water (thank goodness I was dressed!). Comparing the ‘hotness’ of my shower here, to the ‘hotness’ of the shower in my previous unit, the water here is a little too far on the ‘cool’ side. Being someone who overstays their environmental welcome in a hot shower on a cold day, I felt a bit cheated by the lack of heat of the current situation.

According to the plumber, the temperature meets safety requirements (not too low), which leads me to think I may have overdone it with the hot tap before I moved here. The temperature could be tweaked a bit to deliver a warmer shower, but I figured the effort isn’t worth it.

I should explain about how the hot water works in my little retirement world.

My first winter in my last place didn’t end without a few tribulations. I discovered, after running out of hot water in the shower one frosty morning, that the hot-water container stored a mere fifty litres of water. I had long hair, and I liked a long hot shower. It didn’t end well. Yes, I know I’m supposed to use a three-minute timer but seriously, does anyone actually win that race?

So, I applied to our Strata Committee for permission to install a big hot water tank on my front porch. After a bit of argee-bargy, they finally consented, and I was quick to find a plumber to install the new tank.

As a bit of an aside, you’ve probably guessed that I live a fairly chaotic life. Installing a new hot water service was no exception.

The plumber asked how many taps needed to be turned off to secure the water. ‘Three’, I replied, having asked Dave, our maintenance person, a few days earlier. Either the plumber didn’t hear me, or, well, I don’t know what went wrong, but… at a crucial point in the process, water gushed out from under the sink. Before long I was squelching through the carpet in the living area while I phoned Dave to turn the water off at the mains, somewhere along my street. Dave wasn’t on site, but I reckon he flew back from town because the water stopped gushing not too much later. Not soon enough to save the living room carpet, but soon enough to stop the water making its way into the bedrooms.

If I’d had Valium in the house I reckon the plumber would have asked for it (I don’t even have aspirin so he was out of luck). I thought plumbers would be used to that sort of thing, but not him. I wasn’t overly phased by it, and quickly hatched a plan for the coming days while the floors dried. It was July, and I wasn’t fussed on sleeping with the doors and windows wide open, and heavy-duty fans blowing all night (not to mention the noise). I was actually looking forward to a couple of comfortable nights in a hotel; kind of a mini-vacation.

Before I could Google ‘comfy hotel with extra-hot water’, the village manager arrived. His first words were ‘you can’t stay here’, followed by, ‘I can’t believe how calm you are’, and then, ‘there’s a spare apartment in The Lodge you can use until the floors dry’. I gratefully accepted, but not before enquiring about the calibre of the hot water in The Lodge.

Today’s encounter with the plumber was uneventful, and I’ve even commissioned him to install a new shower filter, as soon as I buy it. He was such a nice young person and reminded me of my grandson, who is also a plumber, but sadly lives too far away to come to my water-related rescue. As for my not-too-hot showers? Apartment living is different. We don’t have a separate hot water supply all to ourselves, we share the communal supply, and I’m fine with that.

And now, I await a call from my friend, Stella. We’re going out for coffee, as soon as she gets back from picking up family at the airport.

And somewhere in the world the sun is setting (or maybe just rising), and I’m ahead of the game, for once. My final blog post for the UBC is done.

I have loved every minute of this one and will continue to read and be inspired by the fantastic bloggers that I’ve met along the way. From the great works of Lily Leung that I discovered in an earlier challenge, I’ve learned to relax my writing, and write from the heart.

I hope one day to be even half as good as my Challenge Buddies, and I look forward to meeting you again, in another UBC.

Morning Has Broken, But It Had Nothing To Do With Me…

10/07/2025 / Maureen / 16 Comments

Morning broke this morning, as it does every day, but I was not there to see it. I was peacefully sleeping.

But now, the sun is in its rightful place in an almost clear blue sky, but I’m still in my pyjamas, having slept through another sunrise.

The cold/flu/whatever that I’ve been struggling with for the past week is finally showing signs of easing up, so I’m keen to get out into the sun and bask in its warmth. But first, I need to ditch the PJs and make a coffee. I’ll be right back.

With coffee in hand, my feet perched on the end of the sofa bench on the balcony, my back resting on pillows at the other end, and my laptop precariously wedged in between, I am ready for the day (which by now is hurtling towards midday).

I don’t see many sunrises. Not that I don’t want to, but I know better than to burn the candle at both ends. I can’t be up until midnight, and then sprint out of bed at the crack of dawn; it just doesn’t work. So I’ve accepted the fact that I’m not a morning person.

Morning Person / Night Person?

Endless flashes of inspiration flit through my mind throughout the day – always when I’m busy with something that can’t be put on hold, so they simply waft out into the ether, never to be seen (or heard) again. But when inspiration finds me at night, I’m ready with the net to catch it. Perched on my favourite armchair, laptop on my knee, I’m in the right space for thinking, writing, and reflecting (and catching rare bursts of genius, should they come along).

The nights are mine. Once the front door closes at the end of the day I’m in my safe haven; my own impenetrable fortress where time is of no consequence. And I research and write until the need for sleep dictates bedtime, whatever that time might be.

I don’t apologise for missing the moment when morning breaks the darkness of the night before, but I’m happy to see photos that morning people post up. It seems like a miraculous spectacle to behold when the dark veil of night is lifted by the sun as it resumes its place in another daytime sky.

I’m grateful for every new day that starts, with or without me, as long as the nights are mine.

It’s In The Beans!

26/05/2021 / Maureen / 4 Comments

Anyone who knows me well, knows about my coffee addiction. It’s only a one-cup-a-day habit, but I can’t start without my morning cup-of-joe. And today I proved something that I had suspected for a long time: it’s in the beans.

Let me explain…

In June 2015, while on a short holiday, I stopped for a coffee at a cafe in Murwillumbah (a Northern NSW town). Hmmm…. the coffee went down exceptionally well, but I wasn’t sure if it was as much about the ambience as the actual coffee.

The day I left Murwillumbah to return to Central Queensland, I visited the cafe for another coffee. The drive to the airport took about two hours (less for everyone else – I’m one of those slow drivers), but all the way to Brisbane I could taste that coffee. It lingered on my taste buds and sustained me for the entire trip.

It was at that point that I realised I had just savoured the best coffee on the planet.

The purpose of my visit to Murwillumbah was to catch up with a past work-colleague that I had kept in touch with over the years. She had just bought a unit in a Retirement Village and was keen to show it off.

As I walked around the village and met the friendly residents, I was impressed by how happy they seemed to be.

But I was only sixty-five – yep – retirement age, but still working and loved my job. I figured I’d dust off the chalkboard and hang up the chalk for the last time (well, shut down the Smart Board, actually) when I reached seventy. So I smiled back at those friendly faces, while thinking, “I’m not ready to retire yet”.

Fast Forward a few days….

I’d unpacked from my holiday and come to grips with the fact that I’d be back at work in less than two days, and with it came all the last minute preparation that needed to be done.

The first day of Term Three started in the usual way – crossing paths with colleagues elicited the usual “How was your holiday?”, followed by “holiday…, did we have a holiday?”.

Teachers around the world probably share the same greeting on the first day of a new term. The minute your feet hit the pavement leading to your classroom, your head starts buzzing with thoughts of kids, and playgrounds, and classrooms, and timetables, and parents, and – wait for it ‘Reports’. Yep – those dreaded reports start weighing on your mind from the first minute of the first day.

All thoughts of the past holiday are pushed way back into your long-term memory, to make way for all the urgent here-and-now commitments to be held securely in short-term memory for another ten weeks.

And so the memory of my holiday became another blur, until……

… the day wore on, and the problems escalated.

I went home that day absolutely drained. I was tired but there was no time to rest. Paperwork had to be done at night, as well as preparation for the next day.

From a deep, dark corner of my long-term memory, the smile of those happily retired people in Murwillumbah crept up on me and made their presence felt.

And then the memory of that little cafe in Murwillumbah emerged through the fog of ‘To retire or not retire; that is the question’.

The memory of the mellow taste of that divine coffee came flooding back.

”Not ready to retire yet?…”. “The heck I’m not ready to retire!, bring it on!”.

Day Two of Term Three

“Hi Laurel, have you got a minute?”, I asked our Principal. “Sure”, she said. “What’s wrong?”.

“I need my two-days extra leave. I need to get back to the Gold Coast”, I said….

“Haven’t you just been there” she queried?

“Yep, but I need to buy my Nursing Home for the future”

I imagine you can picture the look on her face, not knowing whether to laugh or have me committed.

She laughed (luckily).

Day Four of Term Three

Gladstone Airport was a two-hour drive away; followed by an hour(ish) flight on the little Dash-8 Qantas jet to Brisbane. I’d pre-booked a rental car and was soon hurtling along the M1 towards Murwillumbah (just south of the Gold Coast, on the NSW side).

For two days I looked at units, in that little Retirement Village where everyone seemed so happy.

One of the first ones I looked at had solar panels on the roof, a veranda across the back, and a front porch where I could sit and enjoy a coffee in the sun.

The unit was being renovated with new paint and carpet, and an overall modernisation. The view from the back veranda was of trees, and the bowling green was not too far away.

I looked at other units with different floor plans and views, but kept going back to that first one. I absolutely loved it!

The price was reasonable, but I wasn’t sure of how much any extras would be, so I made an offer that included a bit of a buffer, just in case.

It was a couple of weeks before I heard back from the sales agent and we were able to agree on a sale price that suited both parties. I signed the contracts a couple of weeks later, and on the second-last day of Term Three, the unit was mine.

The lure of that cafe across the road from the Village helped seal the deal. I could just imagine sauntering over there for a cup of that amazing coffee, whenever the whim took me.

I moved into my unit at the end of Term Four. And I spent a lot of time in that cafe over the Christmas holidays.

As I got to know Josh better (the owner of the cafe), I talked to him about the coffee.

“It’s in the beans”, he said. “You have to start with good beans”.

And Josh started every cup of divine coffee with Dancing Beans, just to prove it’s in the beans. But never underestimate Josh’s ability to pour the best coffee – he is a perfectionist Barista.

My trusty Rocket Giotto Espresso machine goes everywhere I go (on a permanent basis), so the first thing to be set up in my new kitchen was the coffee machine. And now I had access to those good beans and could make a coffee that (almost) equaled the ones from Josh’s cafe. Josh would sell me the beans whenever I needed them.

But, as things go, Josh moved on and sold the cafe, which means I now have to order the beans online.

And that is where this story stems from… I was so busy last week I forgot to order the beans.

In desperation, I bought some local beans from the supermarket yesterday. They came with a recommendation from the manager, but I was still nervous as I made my morning cup-of-joe this morning.

And rightfully so.

As I finish the last dregs of my coffee, there is a slightly dry, almost bitter taste lingering, and no, I didn’t burn the shot.

The only thing different is the beans. The double-shot started pouring at five seconds and finished at twenty-six seconds; a little longer than I would consider a good pour, but within reason.

But the taste is not there.

Today I’ll be ordering the beans from Dancing Beans Roasters in Ipswich, and in a few days I’ll be enjoying that mellow, divine tasting coffee that I have loved for more than five years.

Trust me, folks, it’s in the beans…

According to Hugh, Australians are Coffee Snobs!

19/01/2020 / Maureen / 6 Comments

If Hugh Jackman says Australians are coffee snobs and had the cappuccino before America – then that’s it – we did! After all, who wouldn’t believe Hugh? He’s one of my favourite Australian actors!

Australians are coffee snobs. An influx of Italian immigrants after World War II ensured that – we probably had the word ‘cappuccino’ about 20 years before America. Cafe culture is really big for Aussies. We like to work hard, but we take our leisure time seriously.
Hugh Jackman

I have to admit, I have never thought of Australians as coffee snobs. I thought America had that game all sown up. But apparently not.

My journey with the cappuccino didn’t start in earnest until I was in my ~~fifties~~ – well – let’s just say I was well and truly an adult. Sure, I drank coffee before then – but only if you call that tinned instant stuff, coffee.

The transformative journey towards coffee-snobbery started for me when I lived within walking distance of Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast of Australia.

Weekends were for relaxing. And Saturdays always started with a coffee at a local coffee-shop (Cafe).

Shopping, chores, and preparation for next week’s school didn’t start until after the ritual of slowly sipping a long, hot cappuccino. Time stood still until the coffee-ritual was done.

Weekdays – it was back to the instant powder from the tin. Oh, how I longed for Saturday mornings!

Big Changes Were Imminent

It all happened so fast I’m not even sure where to start telling the story. But the short version is, we packed up and moved to North America for two years. I remember sitting on the beach one morning while preparations were in progress, wondering if I was doing the right thing.

That little bit of self-doubt lasted about a minute. From then on, it was full-steam ahead with planning and packing. There wasn’t much time for any more thoughts of should I or shouldn’t I.

As we left on the big jet-plane from Sydney, I thought I would actually burst with excitement. Not so for Bill. Bill was Canadian/American. For him, it meant going home. Going back to a past-life. Memories tugged at his feelings of excitement – but he handled it well.

Destination Vancouver

A hotel was our home for the first few weeks. And coffee became the start of every day.

Tim Hortons was a short walk away. And this Aussie learned the language of Canadian coffee in a big hurry. I walked up to the counter the first day and ordered a cappuccino for me, and a flat white for Bill.

Hmm, it seems there was something wrong with ordering the flat-white. When Bill heard the commotion, he came to the rescue. I was still in shock that they didn’t understand the order so I can’t tell you what Bill said to resolve the crisis, but it worked.

Apparently a flat-white is a coffee order unique to the Land Down Under or it’s neighbour across the ditch (New Zealand). But I don’t think that’s enough to make us coffee snobs.

From then on, it was Bill’s job to order the coffee while I sat and waited.

A few weeks later we moved into an apartment on Robson Street and a whole new world opened up for me.

Bill’s American roots resurfaced.

I discovered there was a Starbucks on almost every corner! In fact, there were two diagonally opposite each other (does that mean Kitty Corner?).

The sign at the very first Starbucks – in Seattle…

Yep – I lined up and bought a coffee at the original Starbucks…

Every day started with a coffee at our nearest Starbucks – right across the street on Robson and Jervis.

I had landed in coffee Heaven.

I know, there are some who would say coffee and Starbucks are not synonymous. But I’m not one of them. I happen to love Starbucks (but that’s another blog for another time).

Once you’ve ventured onto the path of white chocolate mochas with no whipped-cream, there’s no going back.

And Bill progressed to Soy Latte’s.

The fantastic Barista’s at our Starbucks even taught me how to order my favourite cup-of-joe. I took up the challenge of being the one to bravely order the coffee now that it was a lot easier. A ‘Grande no-whip white chocolate Mocha’ for me, and a ‘tall soy latte’ for Bill.

When we left Vancouver and moved over the border to San Francisco, our nearest Starbucks was a couple of blocks away – but it wasn’t too far to walk each morning. The day had to start right, right?

A year later we moved back to my homeland and back to the Gold Coast, and for me, back to teaching. The first year is still a bit of a blur.

Bill spent most of that year in hospital. And my weekend coffees consisted of whatever I could get before rushing off to visit him, or the dreaded hospital-canteen coffee. Sometimes you just have to make do.

All too soon I was on my own.

Weekend coffees resumed at my nearest Starbucks, a block away from where I lived. The first year was the hardest. Ordering just one coffee – and staring at the empty chair opposite – but I survived.

On weekdays I would look at that jar of instant coffee and say – Yeah? – Nah! I just couldn’t do it. I’d call into a drive-thru on my way to work. The coffee wasn’t good, but it was a whole lot better than the granules from within that jar.

When I ran out of Starbucks by moving to a town in Central Queensland (CQ), something had to give. The nearest coffee-shop (cafe) that even remotely resembled a Starbucks was a two-hour drive away. And then two-hours back. It was a long way but I often did it, just to sit in that cafe and soak up the atmosphere.

But the weekdays were the problem. So I invested in a coffee-machine. Not the Pod variety. I mean, a real one! I bought a Rocket Giotto, and a coffee grinder.

Every time I went back to the coast I would go to my old Starbucks and buy lots of beans to take back to CQ. Then I would make my coffee each morning – put it in a travel mug – and enjoy the taste of real coffee as I drove to school.

What makes us coffee snobs?

There is a local cafe near where I live now that makes the best cappuccinos, using beans that are roasted a few hours from here. Since the very first cup, I was converted.

Luckily I can order the beans online or buy them from the cafe, so there is always a supply on hand (well – at least in the freezer).

The only trouble is, I will now only drink cappuccinos made from Dancing Bean beans. If I meet friends at any other cafe, I just can’t bring myself to order a coffee.

I know what tastes best – and there is no substitute.

Oh, that is, unless I happen to be near a Starbucks. There’s still something about the atmosphere in a Starbucks that I just can’t resist.

I just wish there was a Starbucks close to where I live now. I’d make it a weekend thing – but I’d do it. Perhaps it is because I still can’t sit at a Starbucks without thinking of Bill…and the fond memories of our Vancouver and San Francisco coffee routines.

And his major role in my journey to becoming a coffee-snob.

Weekend – What Weekend?

10/10/2018 / Maureen / 2 Comments

Weekends: those magical hours between Friday night and Monday morning. You close the door of your office on Friday afternoon, and look forward to two days of blissful R&R – that’s Rest and Recuperation in old Military terms. There’s nothing like waking up on Saturday morning, knowing that you can roll over and go back to sleep. The weekend looks good from any angle!

But what happens when the weekend loses its lustre? What happens when the weekend becomes just like any other day?

We call it Retirement!

When you close the door on the office for the very last time, you know you’ve hit retirement. The defining line between weekdays and weekends disappears. Timetables are for bus and train trips, and reports only relate to weather. Work!, becomes a dirty, four-letter word (anyone remember Maynard G Krebs’ reaction to the word?)

Retirement – the new phase of your life where – Yes!, the world really does revolve around you. Possibly for the first time in your life you are free to make decisions that are best for you: “Will I go out today? Nah… I think I’ll sit on the verandah, drink coffee and read a book.” I can do what I want, when I want.

When you settle into retirement, either every day is now a weekday, or every day is now a weekend. I chose the latter. Those days that start with M are no longer feared or dreaded.

Cup Half-Empty or Half-Full?

Mine was always at least half-full, but since I retired, my cup is closer to full (usually with coffee). I have filled it with all the things I’ve wanted to do for a very long time. While I was working, every time I came across something interesting to do, or new skill to learn, I promised myself that I would do it when I retired. Needless to say, the list of things to do and learn was pretty long by the time I closed the door on my work-life.

Working my way through the list!

The first, and most important task was to learn to write creatively. My career was filled with factual report-writing. And there’s nothing like report-writing to stifle any creativity that you may have had prior to your career. Reports: a case of re-telling ‘the facts, and nothing but the facts’. Not much wriggle room for being creative.

And now there’s my Blog – where I get to try out different styles of writing. There is still a lot to learn, but I think I’m slowly moving into a zone where I feel more confident. I can relax a little, and really enjoy the whole writing experience – well – as far as my experience has taken me so far. I’ve only just started flexing my creative muscles so I know I have a long way to go, but I’m definitely enjoying the journey.

Being retired, and being the centre of my own Universe, means I can be flexible. I can write when I want to – not when I have to.

But What About the Challenge?

Ah, yes, the Ultimate Blog Challenge. Where am I up to?

Day 6
As a blogger/writer, do you take the weekend off?
Paul Taubman – Ultimate Blog Challenge

I had a bit of a chuckle when I read the topic for Day 6 – which is roughly where I am up to – despite it being the tenth day of October. My first thought was, ‘Weekend, What Weekend?’. Every day is a weekend.

And I guess that answers the question…

I have posted Days 1, 2 and 3. I’m skipping Days 4 and 5 of the Challenge – until later. So that means I’m up to Day 6. Just saying….
Maureen

The Dawn of a New Tomorrow

04/10/2018 / Maureen / 4 Comments

The bell signals the end of learning for another day. Students make a rush for the door, and the temptation to join them is overwhelming. You sit down at your desk and dream of the dawn of a new tomorrow. A tomorrow with no bells; no lesson plans; no marking; and no report-writing.

When you are a teacher, the lines between day and night are blurred. Three o’clock signals the end of learning for students, and the start of paperwork for teachers.

It’s going to be another long night. Before you start tomorrow’s planning, today’s marking screams at you. Thoughts are sloshing around your head – and they need to find their way into the books to be marked, before they settle into a pool of useless, random words. Leaving the marking until later never ends well. So you open the first book, pick up your pen – and start.

And Lunch?

Your stomach reminds you that playground duty kept you from the staffroom, for yet another lunch break. Along with the empty feeling in your stomach, you crave coffee. Another one of life’s simple pleasures that eludes you in your teaching day. Hot coffee and students don’t mix – Workplace Health & Safety posters adorn the staffroom walls. No chance of forgetting. You make a mental note to stop by the coffee shop on your way home.

When is Enough, Enough?

The teaching weeks roll into teaching months. Before you know it, you’re beyond retirement age, but you are still on the treadmill. Love for your job, and dedication to it, are no consolation for the tiredness you feel. That weariness that chases you down at the end of each long day. Your non-teaching friends are in bed at a reasonable hour – you are up late, planning and writing reports. It takes its toll. Your health starts to flash warning signs – Enough is Enough!

And one day it all comes to a grinding halt. The plans you made to keep working until your seventies, not that you are too far from that magic number, disappear. You wake up one morning and think “I can’t do this anymore”. And that’s the day the resignation papers fall out of your pocket – onto the Principal’s desk.

The dawn of a new tomorrow

When I closed the classroom door for the last time, I didn’t have time to think about it too much. As soon as I made the decision to fill in the retirement-forms – I booked a cruise. I needed something to separate my working-life from my new retirement-life. And I needed something to console me in the raw days following my departure from the world that had absorbed me for more than half my life.

I poured myself into planning for the cruise from Sydney to Singapore. That trip was to close the door on my working life – sealed shut – never to be reopened; and it worked! I came home refreshed, renewed and excited about settling down into a normal life.

Or, So I Thought!

The years of getting by on less than eight hours sleep had become stuck somewhere in my Body-Clock, and it wouldn’t budge. I found myself unable to put my head on the pillow before midnight – but I was still waking up at five or six in the morning. The problem was, there was no planning or report-writing to fill the evenings. I subscribed to paid television – but that didn’t work; there never seemed to be anything worth watching.

I started writing. I had always loved writing and promised myself that one day I would write a book. Perhaps that ‘one day’ had arrived.

The website I dabbled in, while still teaching, suddenly had meaning. It had been sitting there, half-baked, for years. Now it was time to get it into the oven.

And the idea of a Blog started to gel. I’d been hearing about, and reading blogs, for a long time.

Writing; Website; Blogging

The three started to overlap, then merge, until it was only natural that they would become one. And from the ashes, my Phoenix arose.

MaureenDurney.com emerged.

My humble musings from the early days are often painful to revisit. But put into perspective, they are a yardstick by which to measure the distance I have travelled. I can see the improvement in my writing, in my website management, and therefore in my blogging.

What has had the most impact?

The Ultimate Blog Challenge!

Writing within a time-frame and to a specific topic has reined in my verbosity. The challenge dictates a blog-a-day for thirty-one days. You can’t allow yourself the luxury of extra words when the clock is ticking away beside you. Well theoretically, anyway. I still need to work on the length of my blogs. And that is a work-in-progress.

MaureenDurney.com is keeping me focused. It is absorbing me – drawing out the passion that I used to pour into my teaching. It is my new life. Learning new skills is exercising my brain, just as Professional Development did in my teaching days.

And The Book?

The book is another work-in-progress. And the Ultimate Blog Challenge is pre-requisite learning before launching full-on into it. With my long teaching days behind me, and with the dawn of my new tomorrow, I can now devote my life to Blogging.