Mum only has three taste buds left, but she stills loves coming to the café. In fact, we’ve had some lovely times in here ever since it opened. We used to drive all the way to Ethel’s Teashop out on the fringes of town, mostly because Mum and Ethel are old friends, but I’m so glad we can come here now. Ethel is a cranky old bat and her tea just taste like she dropped a few gum leaves in some water.
There’s also the fact that Ethel’s place just never seemed safe. It was basically a shack in the middle of nowhere, and her husband is an arborist for fun, so you could always hear him chopping down trees on the property. I’m not sure if he ever used to do arborist work around Melbourne– as in, as an actual job- but now he’s slightly off his rocker and just chops down trees because he thinks its fun. Mum and I used to go there on Friday mornings and politely listen to Ethel complaining about something or other (mostly the government or her ungrateful children), sipping our leafy water and wondering if our lives would soon be ended by a random act of unlawful tree lopping.
Maybe one day he’ll get too old to pick up a chainsaw, and thus take up tree pruning instead. Until then, I’m quite happy here at Johnny’s. The place is done up like a proper, inner-city café, the coffee is nice, there’s always something soft and jazzy playing…and we don’t fear for our lives. That’s probably the best part. Mum has destroyed her sense of taste from the period of her young life where she ate curries for breakfast lunch and dinner, for a period of sixteen years, but she still just about likes the coffee.
That’s the key to a good café atmosphere in Melbourne. Tree lopping kept to minimum. Also, friendly service.
-Albert
I know plants like I know my own children, except better. As in, I know plants much better. I’d be pretty okay with forgetting my third daughter’s name if it meant that I could just keep that one particular genus in my head…oh, I keep forgetting and it’s infuriating!