There’s a café up from my work. It’s the kind of place that’s always been there. Named after the woman who runs it. They’ll sell you a sausage with mashed potato down the middle. Lamingtons and apple turnovers. Paninis with cranberry and chicken. If I went, I’d get the lolly cake.
Every Monday, I walk past the window and see the same 3 guys sipping cappuccinos. They’re nodding and smiling. Sharing stories about work, complaining about their jobs.
The guy on the right seems like he’s always just on the edge of cracking up laughing. The slightest hint at a joke could set him off. He’s willing it. Anticipating joy.
They are just so happy to be there with their friends. Drinking coffee in the big city. Mondays, 9am. That’s their time. This is their spot. The table in the sun by the window.
It’s such a great start to my week. A picture of friendship.
And every time I see that picture, I think that it means something. And I think how these kind of pictures are painted by people.
Because you might get lucky and bump into a mate every now and then, but most of the time we need to organise.
We need to find a time and a place that works for everyone and we need to turn up. And we need to turn up prepared to listen, and prepared to share. We need to be willing to laugh. To anticipate joy. It’s our shout if we get that job, but we’re ready to cover someone who’s skint. If one of us makes it, we all make it. But when shit goes wrong, we’re ready. We understand, but we also know that 9am on Monday is important to us and we will do our level best to be there. We need everyone there to make this happen. The cappuccinos don’t taste the same otherwise. This is our time. This is our spot.
Monday, 9am. The café up from work. The table in the sun by the window. A picture of friendship.
It looks like solidarity to me.
