Predictable.

As I approached the counter in the coffee shop today, the young-woman-who-treats-me-like-something-the-cat-brought-in-having-first-consumed-it-and-then-regurgiatated-it said: ‘One ninety five, please.’

My regular medium Americano is, indeed, £1.95, but come on…

‘You’re being presumptuous,’ I complained.

‘Well, am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘There you are, then.’

See what I mean?

(She should have a ditty, you know. She should. If I think of one I’ll post it here later.)