Finn and the Quest for Quality Coffee in Camberwell

Dawn came with rosy fingers then scarpered sharpish in the face of a couple of almighty farts from our diminutive darling - Finn.

Daft daddy had also been awakened by Finn's digestive disaster and began to help with the morning ablutions. Unfortunately the large but foolish one was not really a morning person. It had taken a mere 13 days in the world for this to become clear and now, as the big berk tried to push Finn's head through a hole that was clearly designed for an arm, Finn resolved to take action. Coffee - that's what they needed.

A short while later they were off, Finn directing the giant fool with a series of relaxed grunts and snorts, towards the shops in Camberwell Green.

Everything would have been cool if daft dad could be persuaded to drink instant coffee but sadly his taste in beverages was as particular/peculiar as his taste in books. It had to be quality coffee, ideally picked by happy organic farmers and fairly traded too. But this was Camberwell the town that boasted not only a huge £1 shop but also an even larger 99p store. Quality anything was hard to come by.

The newsagent was pleased to meet Finn. She had a paper but no quality coffee.

Next they tried Mr Cruzon's fruit and veg shop. Finn loved Mr Cruzon whose favoritee things were small cats and caramel flavored yoghurt. After fighting through a gaggle of cooing strangers, all of whom exhibited symptoms of mental illness of various levels of severity, they found the coffee.

There were two kinds of Greek coffee, Polish coffee, Palestinian coffee with chicory in it or Douwe Egberts which was the closest thing to quality coffee they were likely to find within a mile of the green. But Douwe Egberts was a large corporate brand and Dumb Dad liked small things - probably explaining his ridiculous attempt to make a living by running an independent bookshop.

So Egberts was off the list. One of Mr Cruzon's friends began to explain how to make Greek coffee using gestures, Greek and random English words. The large but foolish one, still smothered in a pre-coffee fog, nodded and said things like "Ah I see" while clearly not taking any of the explanation in.

Eventually they left having also purchased a melon for mum who was snoozing at home. She always seemed tired though Finn couldn't understand why...

To cut a rather long story short dad managed to make Greek coffee in a pan and woke up enough to read the paper in the garden with Finn. As he put the Middle East crisis into context for our tiny titan we can pause to reflect:

If children are the future but adults act like children - will there be a future for Finn and all the other little things?