During a lull in the daily celebrations by the masses of all that is related to the Lord of Leisure, I wandered over to the local Starbucks for a latte and an ogle at the local student population that happens to pass by. Set aside the fact that there are Starbucks outlets every 300 metres so now you can actually use the phrase “local Starbucks” and it would be sadly accurate.

To begin with, the reason why was that pretty much most of the day had been spent up to that point wallowing in my own filth, discovering Doritos left under the toilet and fighting with mice for control of the last pair of clean underpants. I had to get out back into society, if only to restore some semblance of higher brain activity.

After I wandered like a hob selling the Big Issue and ordered my coffee suppository, I had noticed something peculiar about today’s inhabitants of the coffee slaughterhouse.

Sure, there were the usual people who sat with each other with phones out exchanging IM messages before dunking their phones in their coffees and eating them. But there was a huge glut of people with various types of laptop all busying themselves with seemingly important work, maybe buying a kite, or loosing more gee-gees on horses with three legs.

It then dawned on me that these people had come away from their cosy homes to a cosy coffee shop to get work done and at first I did wonder why. Surely when you’re already at home, you can make all the coffee you want providing you had enough things indoors, stay in your underpants all day and save the time spent wandering the streets of Zombieland instead typing further words of sorrow into the keyboard of hate?

But really they had done the right thing. When was the last time you honestly did a good deal of real work at home? The first thing when you’re at home you want to do is collapse on the sofabed and demand that your nearest and dearest (if you have one) to feed and burp you. Maybe then spend the evening watching more reality filth before being pushed in a wheelbarrow towards the basket where you really sleep.

I too fall into the same trap all too easily and this then becomes the reason why most of the time I never write anything. The temptation of being lazy at home is all too apparent.

Maybe in a strange sort of way, the Starbucks corp and other establishments of its ike, is providing a way of saving us from ourselves and ensures that for a price, we maybe able to get some real work done for a change. Perhaps if I adpoted this modern day approach, I would one day write a weekly masterpiece, worthy of note in some snobby newspaper like the Guardian.

But then, with the laptop ready, and another coffee in my ear, the horrible realisation would set in that most of the time, life is mundane and I have nothing real to write about, thus maybe the laziness is saving me from that horrible realisation. Then again, the day anything I write appears in the Guardian, the devil will revealed as being Tom Selleck all along.