Here I sit, plugged into my laptop, music from Realplayer streaming into my ears to drown out the Starbucks din. Why did I think that this would be a peaceful place to sit and think and work!
The table next to me has been conquered by an army of teenagers, six girls, two blokes. You can almost smell the pheremones from here: the girls alternately ignore the boys or hit them on the arm. The flirting is done surreptitiously through teasing and loud protestations. The two lads face each other across the table, flanked by their ladies. They look like mirror images of each other, both have a mass of short wildly curly hair. One is midnight black, the other is bleached white blonde. The histronic shreaks and wails of their companionss rise wildly and then suddenly the flock is gone, peace is restored.
At a table in the corner, two adults sit snogging, oblivious to the attention of other cafe occupants. He's older, she's slightly younger. They kiss with the intensity and seriousness of the recently loved-up; the sort of meaningful, can't get enough of it kissing which dies a slow death after the first couple of months. The kind of kissing which is accompanied by a gentle hand in the small of the back, or on the arm. The kind of kissing which makes onlookers want to shout "Get a room!", whilst same onlookers vainly try to remember the last time they kissed with such concentration.
It must be something that Starbucks puts in its water, or perhaps they've started slipped aphrodisiacs into their coffee blend!