Posts Tagged ‘ childhood ’

On coffee and being a half-wog baby.

After finishing my HSC, as my school friends and I went our separate ways into the world, there were the inevitable expressions of desire to catch up articulated in the phrase: “Let’s get a coffee sometime.” In my early years of adulthood, before I discovered that “coffee” is just a metaphor, I was terrified by this phrase.

I don’t drink coffee. I’m not sure why. It might be the taste or the residue of a teenage straight edge. I just don’t. But I haven’t always lead a coffee free lifestyle.

A few weeks ago I was hanging out with one of my friends. We were discussing our childhoods and since he’s Lebanese and I’m half-Italian we were searching for a shared sense of wogness. We both spent a lot of time around our grandparents growing up. As the first child born to young parents from working class backgrounds with a mortgage to pay off at early-90s interest rates, as soon as I was off breast milk (which was pretty easy because I was allergic to it) my mum was back at work and I was off to nonno’s and nonna’s.

“Did your grandma give you the bottle?” my friend asked.

“What the fuck bro? No.”

“My grandma gave me the bottle until I was seven. I used to have to hide it from my parents.”

“Nah bro, I didn’t have the bottle, but my grandparents gave me coffee.”

My friend burst out laughing.

“Yeah, I used to drink coffee every day when I was like three years old.”

He kept laughing.

“Is that normal? I don’t really talk about this stuff, so I don’t know what’s normal and not normal for growing up with wog grandparents.”

“That’s not normal bro.” And he just kept laughing.

When I was a kid – a little one – I drank a lot of coffee. Black coffee too. I loved drinking milk too – I’d yell at my mum, “HOT LATTE! GIVE ME HOT LATTE!” – but I kept my latte and coffee separate. Latte was my night drink, coffee my morning drink. The coffee came served with my regular breakfast: a Tip Top English Muffin, cut in half, with each half coated in a thick layer of formaggino. I’m not sure what brand of formaggino it was but it was the wog version (with Italian or French packaging) that my nonno would buy from Big Ed at Earlwood, so it always looked different to the brands I’d see in Coles.

So apparently it’s not normal. Wog babies of the internet (with Italian/Sicilian grandparents), please back me up on this shit and hmu if u agree.