Coffee Cup - Jow Bates

11:43

As sleep's thick blanket faded back into the familiar duvet that subsumed Joe's drowsy being, a bleary distinction returned to room. Dull light from Sunday's noon worked its way past the thick curtains at the end of the room and had begun to crawl ever closer towards Joe's bed.
"Sunday." He muttered to himself, before placing a hand on the wall to lever himself upright. Still under the anaesthetic of semi-consciousness Joe drudged across the room to his Mac, he wiggled the mouse a few times and the computer gleamed to life with far more efficiency than he could ever muster.  

Reggae Sunday

The house shook with The Mighty Diamonds "Pray Unto Thee" and life began to germinate. Joe stumbled purposefully down the bare wooden stairs of his home toward the kitchen. Bypassing a forlorn looking pile of washing up, Joe flicked on the kettle and the room churned with animation. He heaped a tablespoon of instant coffee into a Strongbow pint glass as the water boiled climactically across from him.

Joe bogelled back upstairs with his pint of coffee and sat down at his Apple Mac computer. He yawned and brushed the sleep from his eyes, sipped his coffee and skipped ahead to the forthcoming Eek-a-mouse album.
"Early, early Sunday morning it was a big ganja smuggling!" He wailed, reaching for his wooden cigar box. He ripped up a couple of Rizla papers wrapped them artistically round a palmful of green, before sliding open his coequally lethargic window.
Joe gazed across the damp Guildford terraces and sipped his coffee, pausing to expel a cloud of incense into the London fog.

I've been here before and will come again, 

but I'm not going this trip through.