When I was seven my Dad brought home a tin of ground coffee from America. I tried to make it myself and it just became water and ground coffee. I didn't understand why it didn't work and my Dad and uncle just laughed and explained how filter coffee worked and how I was used to seeing instant coffee made.

Coffee tasted horrible. It was bitter and too powerful and I didn't like any of it, no matter how much milk was put in. When I did drink coffee though, I'd get to sit with my dad and whoever he was talking with in the other room and listen to what they were saying and drink this black bitter water. I've since taken a coffee course, I can make several different types of coffee and prepare almost anything I want in my kitchen, but the thing that drew me in was a chance to actually talk to my Dad in the brief moments he wasn't busy or away.

When I got back home in the Summer from university he'd dug an old coffee machine out the cupboard and we sat and drank filter coffee until late. The conversations aren't as interesting as the ones I used to listen to. He's quit the job that kept him away and now the time I have with him is on my terms instead of his. This is probably a strange thing to post on Hubski after a lot of Philosophy posts, but I'm glad I put down my reason for drinking coffee somewhere, it'll probably be a social drink to me for as long as I live.