13 August, 2008 | Leave a Comment
…in practice I often like a nice place to sit and read. I am also a slut for sugar.
The highlight of my day was going to Starbucks and trying an iced Caffè Mocha for the first time. Mine was decaf [with soya milk and no cream on top], but it still gave me one hell of a buzz. I will be going back there tomorrow. Oh yes.
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At the Starbucks on Tottenham Court Road (there are lots, of course, but I’m talking in particular about the one halfway between the Goodge and Warren Street stops), I’ve been amazed this summer to see that someone’s bag is stolen almost every other day between 3 and 4 PM. (I work there in the late afternoons, almost every day). It’s sort of uncanny. Every other day, just about, the same scene, the same “Sorry, there’s nothing we can do” from the unlucky staffer who gets cornered by the victim, the same explanation that, no, they don’t have CCTV that covers the seating area. They actually have a little card that they give you when it happens that has the credit card companies’ numbers on it.
Almost always women, I assume because men generally don’t leave their wallets in their bags. And it’s generally tourists, I assume because they let their guard down and carry large stacks of cash with them.
I’m thinking about starting a class action lawsuit or something. Not really, but I do spend too much of my time there trying to figure out who the bag thief is…
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That’s terrible! My friend had her handbag stolen recently in this local area. She was eating in a restaurant and she had her handbag on the floor, between her feet, and someone stole it without her even noticing. I’ve taken to keeping my bag in my lap now in restaurants and pretty much every public place.
Maybe the thief is a Starbucks employee!

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I sort of wrap the strap around my leg, always.
Maybe the thief is a Starbucks employee!
God, oh no. Now you’ve given me a whole new line of investigation to preoccupy myself with. My afternoon unproductivity will soar to new heights.
