here are two hot chocolates i had in london.

the first one — doesn’t it look enticing? — was from carluccio’s, the special florentine chocolate, which turned out to not be made to order. instead, it was dispensed from a constantly churning little tub perched atop a shelf high above the espresso machine. it has to be constantly churned, because, as i found out, if left to sit for any period of time, a skin quickly forms. the drink itself is like a runny pudding, and tastes a bit of cornstarch. whuh?

the second one was from the tate modern. you can get a plain hot chocolate, or one with cream and marsmallows. they skimp on neither.

well folks, i’m on to my third variant of cold in about five weeks, horrible squishy bouts of spongyhead and phlegm in hues spanning the spectrum from clear to bright green to murky brown. in between each cold are endless spasms of residual asthmatic coughing.

tonight i washed down an antihistamine, a couple of puffs from a purple inhaler, and a vitamin c pill with a glass of tea. i’m not sure if this renders the medication useless. at least, i mean, it can’t be bad; not like washing down valium with bourbon, for example. we shall see.

the tea is from a can that i’ve had in and out of the fridge for the last year or so (though i wouldn’t be surprised if it actually turned out to be two years old). what happens is, i put it in the fridge, planning to drink it, and then in the meantime an influx of new groceries makes me take it out again to make room. but so tonight, it is finally over, this in-and-out tea saga.

this is what the can says:
“It’s time to Pure. Pure life,
pure time, with pure mind.
Pure taste, with heart.
Little sugar, just black,
pure tea. In Famouse House.”

you see why i had to get it.