Memories. Non-Fiction.

 

Every month we would walk down to the bus stop, then catch a turquoise blue bus into the big city. A little girl, her sister, and their mother. 

It was easily my favourite day of the month. Our first stop was the big bank where Mom would join the queue, her old-fashioned bank book in her handbag. After that, we would head to various shops. The material shop was high on Mom's priority list. She loved to sew. We'd get bored quickly, although we'd try to make the minutes pass by paging through pattern books.

Sometimes, we'd pop into the bookshop: Adam and Griggs. All three of us loved books, so I'm not sure how we managed to get out of there! And then, there were payments to be made of course.

A highlight was having lunch, just the three of us at a restaurant: toasted cheese and tea for Mom, hamburgers and milkshakes for us. So many happy memories, all lovingly entwined around our sweet mother.

As far as the places go, one of my favourites was Colombo. A very old-fashioned coffee shop. No, not the kind where you get a cup of java, but the kind with an old , long wooden counter behind which towered glass boxes of coffee beans. Columbo was filled with the sound of coffee being ground, the warm, nutty fragrance of roasting peanuts, and a queue of people eagerly waiting their turn.

We'd wait beside glass display cabinets of delicate painted china. Mom would buy Importer's Earl Gray for the month from Colombo along with the Mocha Java and Blue Mountain. (A few dark beans, please.)

By far, the most wonderful aspect of Columbo, was obviously the aroma of coffee which infused the venerable shop and seeped out of its doors and into the street. I don't believe that I can do that aroma justice. That rich, warm, nutty, South American aroma. Perhaps you can imagine it, or rather, smell it, for yourself.

Funny, I have always been a tea drinker. Earl Gray remains a favourite. I think Columbo spoilt coffee for me. Coffee never tastes as good as that fine old shop used to smell.

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