Bad things come in three’s.

Last week, after my first two wheeled tumble on Elizabeth st, someone jokingly said, “Oh be careful Talor, you know bad things always happen in three’s”.

I’m not sure if that idea planted itself somewhere deep in my unconscious but later on in the week, just after getting my British cycling green Raleigh back from the bike shop and making tracks for Prudence to celebrate the Easter long weekend. I cleaned up a pedestrian on Swanston st. I’m glad they are changing that street from its current lay out because as I crossed the intersection, a drunken punter from the pub on the corner rushed out ahead of the green signal and right into where I was planning to ride. Everything happened so fast that before I knew it, I was being hauled onto the sidewalk out of the way of traffic, dealing with the glares of cyclist hating citizens.

I brushed myself off, gratefully accepted the water given to me by a concerned security guard and tried to salvage my dignity by walking my bike away from the scene. Only to then be followed by who I soon found out to be a single father of one from Glenroy who was in the city celebrating his football teams win. He was concerned for my health after the accident. Also my current marital status. Obviously he thought a woman that could so gracefully take out a drunken idiot would be a great role model for his child.

The only thing I took away from the accident was some fresh grazes and bruises on top of the ones I already had.

Then came number three. I rolled over and peered into a drizzly morning over Moonee Ponds. The rain was light enough so I wouldn’t have to take my chances being late for work on the train, so at 7:30am, I pumped up my tyres and hit the road. I made it all the way to Footscray before the car in front of me slammed on its breaks at a free intersection and I, with rain slicked wheels, hurtled into the back of it. Genuinely, it was my most pain free accident of the whole three but my bike had finally packed it in.

So, goodbye my beautiful trusty steed. You served me well!

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair.

Astro turf and pink flamingos.

I have to move house, again.

This means no more Breakfast Club, no more Piedmontes, no more Pizza Mien Liebe. No more Jen, the best housemate a lady could wish for. I’m off to Moonee Ponds. My plan is to make it the next cool ‘burb.
My new housemate is Brittany, she also dresses like an old lady, collects antique furniture and is an all around swell lady. There is a balcony with astro turf and pink flamingos. I was already sold at the concept of my own bathroom with a bathtub. Dreamy.

The change has inspired me in every other aspect of my life. I am taking on a few more things at Seeds and dreaming up some big challenges.
Nothing cement yet, I’ll figure out the details later.

I also found the most exceptional bike in Westgarth. It was sitting next to a bridge in a bad way with rotting tires. In need of some love. I checked the serial number and its a 1971 Raleigh Sprite, 5 speed. Underneath the botched paint job is a bronze beauty with all original stickers. Kris and I hauled it into the back of the Lancer and its currently in the shop at Pony Bikes. Getting the royal treatment. I think its coming back as a suprise, I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t know a thing.

Heading to Three Bags Full on Friday for breakfast with Stephanie Courtney Jones. I’m a little concerned at whether or not this is going to follow the carbon copy plans of every other cafe in Melbourne that has opened in the past two years. The reviews seem to be pointing in that direction, fingers crossed though eh.

Hacienda La Esmeralda.

Oh deary me!
Words cannot convey to you how brilliant yesterday actually was. Having the entire weekend off is really starting to reveal its merits.

At 6am I jumped on Jethro and sped down Flinders street, took a left and made it just in time to cup with Toshi and Kris at St. Ali. Everything is so different there now, its kind of like when you move away from home and your parents re-arrange your bedroom so that you don’t recognize it anymore.
The Cachoeira was a standout, a balanced body with massive amount of peanuts. The Natural we cupped was also beautiful with berries and sweetness. Mexican Altura was great with big coca notes at the finish. The Blue Batak they had was also very interesting. We all thought it was the Lintong. Oh how wrong we were!

I settled in with the Saturday paper after that and ate the most enormous breakfast in the history of poached eggs. Tried some Rwandan through the machine and tasted their new espresso blend. It was all so lovely.

Jumped on Jethro again to make it back into the city and got a sneak peak of the new place. It hasn’t got a roof now but you can surely see the large amounts of potential. Plus there is the whole bonus of how ridiculously close to my house it is. Totally ace.

Then it was time for a coffee epiphany. We lined up a few things on the cupping table, the Muchoki Peaberry from Square Mile, which we have had in before that displayed a whole lot more snow peas than this standout from the fellas in London. We also had the El Portillo with lovely fudge notes from the same place.
Next in line was where things really hit a hight note. The fragrance was of limes, coconut, apricot and amazing sweetness. The cup was even more astounding, as if someone had spiked what we were slurping. MD really nailed it on this one, it was one of the most spectacular things I have ever tasted. Of course it was the Esmerelda.

Next up were three from Monmouth, who are also from London but to tell you the truth, I was just a little spoiled from then on and kept returning to cup number three.

We did another line up, which included some washed Sidamo, Nicaraguan Natural that we had roasted up and some Kenyans from Russ at Source and Hazel in Sydney.
I finished it all with a quiet coffee in the corner, had some lovely lunch at Sweet Source in Carlton and spent the rest of the afternoon trawling second hand book shops.

If only it had rained, it would have been 100% perfect. Oh well, theres always Sunday.