Quantum was at the bar ordering the drinks that we would be imbibing in the name of my departure from the Shire. We figured we might as well start the proceedings since we were the first parties to arrive, plus his recent evening run had broken the needle on his water meter. He’s the tallest one in the office and possibly the slimmest too, so he’d be the prime candidate to don a fuzzy helmet if the need to clean any pipes arose. He maintained his physique through a strict diet of food low in saturated fat and low in calories. He’d also managed to cut out chocolate completely from his diet, which is truly amazing considering he’s only 21 years old and surely was yet to sample all the delights of the Belgians and the Swiss. Would have been even more amazing if he had a double dose of the X chromosome, but let’s just keep that within the right context.

I never truly did the calorie-counting thing before I came to the Shire, but when you work in a team where everyone spends a defined portion of their day reading the side of lunchable consumables, you’d want to fit in too! I wouldn’t dream of giving up chocolate this side of the millennium but I must admit I’ve gotten way more conscious of foods to take in lesser quantity. I mean, I’d still eat what I normally eat, but keep the calories close to the suggested 2500k per day. That means less snacking and less gorging. Having done this routine for most of this year, by now it’s no longer difficult. No more “eating therapy” and no more “an apple cream glazed tartlet with meringue and dusted sugar a day keeps the doctor away.” This will be in good morals till I go to Asia next year, during which I will be feasting like a portly king that had been kidnapped from his throne for 10 years.

Smoke continues to cascade upwards through the air as though we were drinking in orbit with a leaky roof. The faint sound of indeterminate 80’s revival pop ushers into both the era and the room from mounted speakers. Quantum raises his hand at the bar.

“Can I get two Leffes and a Coke?”

Leffe is a brand of Belgian beer, coming in a variety of flavours, including apple, lemon and orange. Fruit beers are the most deceptive of the beer kingdom. Asides from trying to convince you that they are a legitimate part of the “5 a day” fruit and veg that nutritionists insist must be taken daily (certainly by the 3rd portion/pint), they’re sweet, fragrant and smooth enough to go down in one esophageal contraction. This makes good hide of the fact that they’re usually over 6% alcohol by volume. <digression>If you get the chance and appreciate ambrosial beers, do try Florisgaarden Honey. As the name suggests, a honey beer, and not too dissimilar from the Mead the ancient Teuton grooms were allegedly allowed to drink by the bride’s father for the 30 days following a full moon wedding; hence the term, “honeymoon.”</digression>

We opted for a Blonde Leffe, for that classic golden 6.6% fix. This otherwise normal command was met by the barman-cum-barboy, with a look of wonder before he set off to fulfil the request. We peripherally watch him as he takes out a couple of glasses and fills them with golden draught whilst we fill the gap in the universe with a short conversation about muons and gluons. Setting the two beers on the counter, he makes eye contact with Quantum.

“And what was that other thing?”
“A Coke.”
“A what?”
“You know, a Coke.”

Yes, at that moment it seemed like Coca-Cola was just a dream and that we were waking up to the reality of a world that Coke forgot. In my eyes, a world without Coke wouldn’t be as disastrous as a world without any form of Cola. Worse still, if they banned regular sugar-containing Coke and only permitted artificially sweetened Coke, which is wonderful if you’re after something with less than 5 kcals and less than 5% the taste of regular Coke. The Diet Vanilla Coke is OK because it tastes kinda like cream soda, but nothing like Coke. The Diet Coke with Lime is OK because it tastes kinda like limeade, but again, nothing like Coke. I’ll have to do some research to check if all that aspartame in place of sugar in your diet is at all beneficial for your organs as it is for your Body Mass Index, but it seems that any further flavours of Diet Coke that will appear in the future will basically be like the Coca-Cola Company’s undercover venture into the shady underworld that is the non-Cola market. And I wonder how much the tips of the tongues of diet-drinkers have been dampened. Does diet Cola taste appealing because they have succumbed to the saccharine notion that they are replacing the taste of sugar in their diet? Would having them hold a sugar cube in their mouth result in a face long enough to attract a horse?

In the 5 months or so that I’d known him, I’d never seen Quantum have regular Coke or Pepsi. It had always been Diet Coke or Pepsi Max to accompany a healthy lunch. Never fruit juice, always low-cal Cola. He’s another example of someone who eats healthy meals, eats their fruit and veg (although granted, a good proportion in the form of fermented wheat), takes their vitamins, doesn’t smoke, gets regular exercise, but is at the mercy of their one and only vice; the diet Cola.

“That’s all you want? a Coke“
“Yes.”
“And nothing else?”
“Erm, yes.”

I remember Quantum and I looking at each other in confusion. I quickly scanned the bar for any crude signs indicating that they do not serve non-alcoholic drinks after 7pm or a contractual obligation stating that hog bites must be puchased for every couple pints of beer. None. So it might be worth mentioning now that the italicising of “Coke” here is to reflect Quantum’s near-Geordie (read: denizen of near-Newcastle) accent. If you’re familiar with the dialect, you’ll know exactly what the substitution of extended and shortened vowels into a typical Londoner’s accent sound like. Having finally achieved confidence in Quantum’s order, the bartender leaves the counter again and approaches the inverted bottles of Russian devil juice secured to the walls. He returns and before proceeding to ring up the order on the till, he smiles and places on the counter, a cork.