I don't really function without coffee. Whether it's psychological or not it doesn't really matter, but until I've had that first glorious hit of milky caffeine I'm not really ready to face the day. When I'm away from home I somehow unintentionally manage to always pick hotels and apartments that are within a stone's throw of a Starbucks; when we were on honeymoon in Bali I even managed to get an Indonesian hit of American coffee, which was rather ironic considering they're one of the world's most rich coffee suppliers and had the black stuff on tap wherever I went. (I like to think of it as a skill, or even a telepathic connection with coffee shops around the globe.) While in Paris recently our apartment overlooked a beautiful corner Starbs that I could shoot to every morning for my fix - although at £4.50 a go for a latte, you can tell why Parisians like their cheap and cheerful street coffee shops more.
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