Mocha the Week - Mini Maybe
Fortitude, Abbey Mount
“Hello from the past,” said the ghost of Marianne Last Week. “I’m speaking to you from the future in which I am no longer a ghost from the past, just a useful device to introduce the fact that this edition of Mocha the Week is a week late. I’ll leave it to Marianne Present Day to explain.”
Thank you, Marianne Last Week. As she said, last week’s review is late and has now become this week’s review. Basically, I had one kiddo sent home sick from nursery on the Thursday, which pushed most of my weekend jobs/errands to my child-free, usually-working-day Monday. But then my baby was sick on Monday morning and had to stay home from her childminder, which meant I had her with me most of the day. I did, however, manage to sneak away into the autumn rains for to go to Fortitude, where I enjoyed a lovely hour of drinking coffee and non-stop worrying about my sad, vomiting child wallowing at home while I was “living it up” in caffeinated luxury. She’s getting better now (thanks for asking), as is my older daughter (thanks for asking), so while I’ve got a moment between seasonal viruses, I’m going to get this posted so I don’t fall toooooo far behind with my optimistic, one-a-week coffee blog dream. And so, to the blog…
I chose Fortitude this week because a) it’s pretty close to my house (walking bonus) and b) Google reviewers RAVED about it. Since it’s so rainy, I actually took a bus on the way here. Then of course my anxiety dictated I get off 5 stops too soon, so I got soaked anyway and walked in mostly just happy to be somewhere dry. But the fact it has four walls and a roof isn’t the only thing that’s great about Fortitude! It’s light, bright and airy (the massive floor-to-ceiling window pulling its weight here), yet somehow also warm and cosy. They’ve managed to maximise on seating despite the relatively small space and the sort-of-on-the-large-side counter area. There’s a clean, modern aesthetic with no pretence, just a nice lil café where you can get a good coffee and a lovely cake.
And yeah, the coffee is pretty good. It’s the definition of mellow, very pleasant to drink if a TAD on the wimpy side for my tastes. The milk art is excellent – 10/10 for neatness, for sure. Really nice staff and some excellent dogs, who are very welcome here. If I have one complaint, I’d say the mug the coffee comes in is maybe a bit too large, to the extent it went cold halfway through me drinking it. I never like to guzzle a coffee (what maniac does?!), but with a little over a quarter of a cup left, there really wasn’t a whisper of warmth left. And though I’m not an insane coffee chugger, today I was drinking at a fair clip (see above info on my need to get home to my effusive baby). So maybe I’m not a fan of MASSIVE coffees for this very reason. Or maybe it’s because I simply prefer tiny things in general.
WHICH LEADS ME NICELY TO THIS WEEK’S TOPIC*. I am borderline obsessed with miniature things. Always have been. As a kid I loved Polly Pocket, doll houses, Lil’ Babies, Teddy’s World, tiny tea sets, all that shit. When I was maybe eight (let’s be honest, the ages of 5-10 are a bit of a homogenous blob, right?), I was in a toy shop and saw an apparently empty display case, fronted by a magnifying glass. When you looked through the magnifier, you could see what was described as “the world’s smallest teddy bear”. It was pretty effin’ small, sure. But I came away from the trip thinking I could absolutely make a teddy bear that was at least as small, if not loads smaller. Needless to say, upon returning home and mangling swatch after swatch of fabric with a giant darning needle I found in my mum’s sewing box, I gave up on the idea and went to watch Ballykissangel or some other cosy Sunday night drama that was far too old for my youthful precocities.
Anyway, tiny things are still my favourites, and my hands/the tools I use have grown much more adept as the years have gone by, to the point where I’d say I’m pretty handy as a miniaturist, though I couldn’t claim to be a professional by any stretch**. I guess my dream life would be making miniature things between writing novels about tiny lives? I suppose the fact I’ve been writing poetry most of my life relates back to this too; writing about the tiny little moments of sublimity etc. (though if you’ve read my work, you’ll know it’s majority talking dogs and the hilarity of depression).
The reason I’m talking about it this week though, is because I’ve been working on some little coins for my older daughter, Halloween-themed, of course. The plan is to make a new set of coins for each season/upcoming holiday, which I’ll hide around the house for her to find (girl loves a treasure hunt…don’t we all?). I mean, eventually I’ll have to make them for the wee yin too, so no one feels hard done by, but I’m not complaining. Crafting very very small things is deeply soothing to my soul. Maybe I have a god complex? Or maybe I need to try and regulate my world after the decades of chaotic grief and trauma, and shrinking things down to a smaller scale is my chosen means of control. Me and my cousin wonder if maybe it’s hereditary since it seems to be a family trait to collect/create miniatures. Maybe we were Borrowers in another timeline. Whatever the reason, making minis an excellent distraction from “big life”, plus you get a cute little thing to keep at the end of it.
I always feel refreshed following a few hours locked in the concentrated work of making something tiny. A few months after my sister died, I bought a mini pottery wheel and learned how to throw tiny pots. I spent literal days making mug after mug for…who? Mice? (no thanks) Pixies? (I wish). Just for myself, I guess. In fact, I had planned to bring Mocha the Week back then, with the intention of visiting a café, then throwing a tiny version of the mug I drank from as some sort of souvenir. Maybe I’ll think about doing that in the future (need to think up a better way to keep my workspace clean though – small scale pottery wheel apparently does not mean small scale mess, unfortunately!)
I know there must be some sort of psychology behind the need to make the world tiny, and I’ve just embarked on a bit of research into it. I’m currently reading In Miniature: How Small Things Illuminate the World by Simon Garfield (pictured above), hoping to shed to light on my obsession. I had wanted to be a bit further into it so I could share some thoughts, but life/illness got in the way this week. I’ll keep you posted when I’ve read enough to formulate an opinion.
All this to say, if you’re currently going through a bereavement and you’re in one of those thick, sticky parts of your grief where it feels like you’re falling through treacle, suffocating, spiralling in slow motion while the rest of the world is zooming by at double the rate, you might like to try your hand at making something small. Get a packet of air-drying clay and sculpt some tiny food or something. Doesn’t have to be perfect or fit for anyone’s eyes but your own, it’s the process that’s the important bit. The complete distraction of your mind from this massive, major thing that’s happened to the teeny weeny thing you’re forming with your fingertips or painting with the lightest of brushstrokes.
Have I ventured too far into the guise of an art therapist here? Maybe. Do I care? I do not. This blog is now very long and meandering, and my giant coffee is now very cold and I have to walk home in the rain. Oh well. Catch you next week, my lil’ latte lovers!
*Mopic? Like mocha + topic? Does that work? No, no, it doesn’t. Does it? Please advise.
**I do however love to follow professionals on insta – links to some of my faves here, and here, and here, and here. Also check out Willard Wigan for some extremely tiny stuff. And if you’re ever in Kyoto, go see Mayuka for a REALLY fun miniature food making experience!