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How convenient the clever people who started our modern calendar chose BC and AD to denote the ancient past and the current era.

They are so easily customisable.

BC - before child.

AD - after delivery.

Although I'm only now approaching 4AD, BC does seem a couple of millennia ago.

Let me share what I recall of my BC morning regime.

It was a pretty simple routine.

1. Stumble out of bed.
2. Grind coffee beans.
3. Tamp ground coffee.
4. Steam milk.
5. Make coffee.
6. Drink coffee.
7. Repeat steps 2 through 6.
8. Clean coffee machine and surrounding bench tops.

Sometime, during the year 2AD, that morning ritual disappeared.

I could occasionally manage to get as far as drinking a coffee, but the cleaning bit just wasn't happening.

I guess I became distracted by other things.

Like feeding Miss Time.

Or getting her dressed.

Brushing her teeth.

Her hair. Oh Dear God - plaits. The nemesis of close-cropped dads the world over.

Back in 2AD Miss Time mastered the art of winding down the clock until we had to leave.

The coffee mess would always be there, mocking me when I got home from work.

Subsequently the most used appliance in our kitchen began to suffer the same fate as electric knives and bread machines.

And the local coffee shops reported an unprecedented boost in business.

I'm pretty sure I've kept several cafes afloat during this global financial crisis.

So it was with great delight on one of those rare weekend days, when we had nowhere to be, I decided to rekindle my friendship with my espresso machine.

Sadly, my burr grinder had other ideas and tried to fill the kitchen with smoke. Not quite the aroma I was going for.

I considered spending close to $200 on a replacement grinder, before I did the unthinkable.

I joined a cult.

From coffee snob, to capsule connoisseur, I have turned my back on my old beliefs.

I don't even steam my milk anymore. A funky little machine swirls it for me, and a little spring-like attachment froths it up if I fancy a cappuccino or macchiato.

The coffee in the pods is already ground. I never even see it.

I just throw it in the machine, which grunts a little, then an espresso starts pouring into my cup.

No mess. No cleaning.

Even Miss Time can't disrupt my rediscovered morning routine.

Here's the truth of it. I felt like a sell out. I was even a little embarrassed. At first.

Normally lampooned for being a coffee snob, I was instead taunted for joining a cult.

Yes, the coffee costs more per cup. Significantly more. And I'm now drinking more of it.

But, it tastes pretty good.

I even made one for the biggest disbeliever I know.

She screwed up her face as she took a sip.

"That's..." she started to criticise. Then stopped.

"That's..." her face uncreased.

"That's actually really good."

Welcome to the cult.

Follow Michael on Twitter @MichaelCoombes

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