Tea in the attic

It is Sunday, one of those Sundays that are also the last day of a holiday. The day usually makes me a bit melancholic, so I feel even more moody when I know the holidays are about to finish. Even when I don't have a job, I feel like this. At least I have a job to return to, I guess, that's the good side of things. But I still feel melancholic like a schoolboy about Christmastime coming to an end. Yes, yes, I am repeating myself.

Today, my wife and I went to Costa. It is one of our little rituals on a Sunday. We hadn't done it since before our trip to Brittany, so it was nice to be back there. I don't drink coffee, and even though tea is ridiculously expensive for what it is, it is still cheaper than something I would not enjoy.

I enjoy this ritual for the place more than for the drinks anyway. This Costa is in an old building with an upper floor which is an attic. And as my old-time readers know I love attics. I love this one even more since it is an old one, with wooden beams, uneven floor and old windows (with slightly crooked frames) with a view on the main street. When the weather outside is bad, one can feel it while staying comfortable inside. It has the balance of light and shadow that makes it feel warm and welcoming. The atmosphere of this place is worth the price of the drinks. It used to be a indie bookstore, before we moved in. Part of me thinks it is a shame it is not a bookstore anymore, even though I don't know if they had good books in stock. Reading there would be quite an experience too, I might do it one day. The only thing is that it is often quite busy, so it might not be the ideal place for a bookworm. But otherwise it is perfect.