If I’m obsessive about my pizza-making skills then DM has become equally obsessive about his Gaggia. He’s going to be joining the BOBS before he knows it. After years of gathering dust on the side in the kitchen I pointed out to him that the Gaggia had cost us a great deal of money – the sort of sum that we’d probably have to kill for now (only joking) since we are living off a student loan and a trainee teacher salary. I (rightly) pointed out that we could have spent the same amount of cash on a Kitchen Aid mixer and I’ll bet it’d have been used more. I suppose the lesson there is that’s the benefit of hindsight.

So, he took up the challenge and has been trying to perfect coffee-making skills. He’s researched it to within an inch of its life. He’s made me cup after cup of experimental coffee and, to be frank, I’ve not been over keen on many of them. I’m a little on the squeamish side about coffee. I don’t like it too strong. I certainly don’t like it with a chewy texture and believe me there have been a few of those in the last couple of weeks. I know this will be met with cries of “heresy” from every corner of the pbase globe but I actually like instant coffee. OK OK – stop the abuse!

Anyway, he’s bought a coffee grinder, a super-dooper milk jug with a fancy thermometer and today, the coffee arrived. You see, he’s decided that it’s just not good enough to buy ready-ground coffee, it has to be freshly ground so it can be ground to the best possible consistency for the device (espresso, cafetiere, etc). I do sympathise with the freshly ground thing – I too buy all my spice whole and roast and grind them myself so if he’s being anal about it then I have to put my hand up and say “me too”.

The coffee is a bit special. It came from a local supplier which has its own super rigorous ethical policy and it was only roasted yesterday. With my BOBS hat on I can tell you that “when I were nobut a lass” we used to make trips to Watford of all places to buy freshly-ground coffee from an importer who roasted the beans in a big drum, a bit like a washing machine drum, in the window of his shop in the High Street. I LOVED the smell and sounds of the shop, with its wooden bins of freshly roasted beans that he’d weigh out with big brass scoops onto a proper set of weighing scales and grind while you waited. I am going tingly at the sounds of the beans landing on the scales from the scoop and the grinders. Honestly, I challenge anyone to say that losing shops like that is a good thing for our High Streets because it emphatically is not.

So, the coffee procured, the beans ground (which, by the way, he now thinks is pretty hard work), the espresso machine in full flow, the milk steamed to just the right temperature and out comes the cup of steaming coffee. And do you know what? It was bloody gorgeous. His pernickertiness has paid off in spade-fuls. Well done DM. Now you have to keep it up!

OK - now with the wonders of modern technology I have just walked down Watford High Street while sitting on my sofa in Cornwall thanks to google street view and not only is the coffee shop not there but what's more upsetting is in its place is a Cafe Nero. If you, from where ever you are in the world can hear wailing and gnashing of teeth, it's me. I am mortified.