Not long ago, I went through a long period during which I awoke every morning with absolutely no desire to make coffee.
The routine had, at some point, devolved into yet another chore... leaving as a gift for my future self an unpleasant deposit of sodden grounds.
In my 20s, I worked abroad at a newspaper staffed largely by expat British journalists who drank Nescafe as if it were water.
The instant coffees I encountered more recently looked exactly the same, albeit in some instances in slicker packaging, adorned with stylish labels.
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