When is a Cup of Coffee ‘just a Cup of Coffee?’

“A cup of coffee is never a cup of coffee...”

                I was at the Spread the Word writers course in Neath, scribbling down what my tutor had just said. The lecture that day was on ‘coffee’ and I slurped down on my mug as a faithful student.

                “Interviews in this industry are very relaxed. It’s very unlikely you’d be called for an ‘interview’ as such. It’s far more common to be called in for a ‘chat’ or a ‘cup of coffee.’” He tapped his cup as he spoke. “So don’t be fooled; have your idea ready. If they ask you what you’re writing at the moment, don’t just pull an idea out of your ass.”

 The writers in the room suddenly flushed red. It seemed the gift of the gab was a common platform among my trade.

“But!” He stressed “if you don’t have an idea, definitely pull one out of your ass. Don’t sit there with nothing to say.”

                I looked up worriedly.  This suddenly seemed harder than physics.

 “What if they don’t ask you what you’re working on?” I asked, alarmed “What if it’s just a cup of coffee?”

“Then it’s just a cup of coffee.”

I blinked.

Then it’s just a cup of coffee... I scribbled. My mind flashed to Freud’s defence of his dream analysis theories to his critics. “Sometimes, a cigar is just a cigar.”

It’s been roughly four weeks since I started my BBC Training for the 2012 Production Talent Pool and although I learnt a lot from my experience as a writer, I guess there really is something to be said of the knowledge gained through practical experience. It’s been a flurry of tax forms, learning how to write invoices, googling relevant freelance templates and handing out the majority of my ‘business cards’ to my friends while drunk.

There have also been a few trips back and forth to London where I’ve manoeuvred my way through the damn tube system (I hate the tube. I have an irrational fear that it will set on fire one day while I’m in there and now I’ve typed it to the world, it will surely happen).


I’ve also managed to catch the Megabus home, although it has been, every time without fail, a race to catch it from Victoria Tube Station to Victoria Bus Station. Although on the plus side, the run is definitely improving my fitness.  

The last trip I took, a few days ago, left me with a few hours free. I had my laptop in my bag and three pieces I’d been working on that morning which were ready to be looked at again.

The problem was I am an addict. I have a secret addiction I've been keeping from my friends and family. I just haven’t really come to terms with it yet. Every morning when I wake up, I promise myself today will be the day I give it up, then life hits me in the face with a baseball bat and I go running back to my old habits. 

I needed a fix, but London was such a big city I didn’t quite know where to start looking for one. I knew if I started walking, I’d probably find something sooner or later, but a little voice in my head had other ideas.


I was working with the theory that next time I was in London and I needed “something”, I might not be in Victoria Station. I could be anywhere. I needed something close to a tube station, so that no matter where I was in London, I could just hop on the tube and find it.

That’s what addiction is; blowing off deadlines and facing your ultimate (but ridiculous) fear of being burnt alive on a tube in order to find the most conveniently placed Starbucks to get a Grande Caramel Frappuccino.

So like any self respecting Welsh woman visiting London alone, I rode around on the tube, dodging through tunnels and getting on random lines in no particular order. I must have spent about forty minutes riding around, having great fun, before getting off at Bank. I didn’t know why I chose that destination, but I did. I was somehow drawn to it, and loe and behold, I got off the tube and there was the glowing green mermaid; beckoning me in on a wind of caffeine.

When it was eventually time to meet my contact, I swigged down the last of my coffee and whizzed back on the tube to my destination, where I spotted a carefully placed Costa. Naturally, I dipped in for a quick latte before she arrived.

I’d been working on a show as Production Assistant and had been invited up to see the practicalities of how the radio station worked. I met my new buddy for the day outside Borough Market, where her first words were something along the lines of “Shall we get a coffee?”

So we did. I got another latte, a decision I wondered if I’d regret later that night, probably somewhere around four in the morning. We chatted for an hour before the show about various different projects and ventures we were working on. Cheesy as it sounds, I genuinely love these kinds of little meetings, where I can talk to people about exciting and interesting projects, as well as telling them about my own things I’ve got going on. Often, in industries I’ve been in before, like the pub trade, the only conversations I’d have were from local alcoholics, stag do’s and pervs. Like I’ve said, many a time before, it really is great talking to exciting people who share the same interests.

That’s why I wasn’t too disappointed when the radio show got postponed unexpectedly by the station. It meant spending another hour or so talking with my contact, as well as a number of contributors from the show. The information I learned about how the other contributors had gotten to where they were today proved invaluable. Naturally, we headed back to Costa... I was starting to worry a little, as I’d already had a fair amount of coffee that day. Addict or not, I was pretty sure one more would probably tip me over the edge into caffeine induced sweats and heart palpitations. I couldn’t help but wonder; if the media is run on informal chats and cups of coffee, how does everybody actually cope with that much caffeine?

“I’ll have a green tea please,” said the producer. From there, it all seemed to click into place as I followed suit with my healthy, social beverage. She started chatting about a film she was planning on making in the next few months, and the concept of it really gripped me.

After an hour well spent, I raced back to the Megabus in Victoria Coach Station from Victoria Train Station – a distance I’m now managing to cover in three minutes, although I’m sure this number runs in direct correlation with the numbers of coffees I’ve drank that day.

I wiped the sweat from my brow as I fumbled for my phone in my pocket. It’s always good manners to text someone and say thank you for meeting them, regardless of whether you were taught it in a lecture or not.

“Hey Kelsey, how’d you like to get involved in this little film project?”

I was stunned.

Had I just had a cup of coffee, without realising it was a cup of coffee?

I texted back to say that I’d love to get involved and very soon had the script waiting in my inbox ready to get the ideas flowing. When I thought about it – although I’d spent a lot of time corresponding with this woman, face to face we’d only met briefly for about ten minutes before that day, and if you’re working with someone on a project you need to know whether you can stick all those hours filming with them. Sometimes perhaps someone might have an idea of you and how you work in mind already; it just takes a few minutes over a cup of coffee to confirm (or contradict) this.

For now at least, I guess the caffeine kick will have to wait.