It cost 25 cents.
"Who's Robert?" my mate asked when he saw the cup.
I've known a few Roberts in my life but all of them were called Bob.
I have a cousin in Pittsburgh named Robert, but everybody calls him Bob.
So why did I buy a cup with the name Robert on it?
1. It was the perfect size.
And (B) I liked the color and feel of it.
Not too heavy, not too light, just right.
On the bottom it says "Kiln Craft, Stratfordshire, England."
(So it wasn't "Made in China" and you won't find one exactly like it in Dollarama)
I googled the name "Kiln Craft coffee mug" and wouldn't you know, about fifteen people are selling English Kiln Craft coffee mugs, where one of similar size and shape, used, was going for $29.00.
None of them say "Robert", though.
I'd never sell my Robert mug.
It'll replace the too-large tea cup that I usually use for morning coffee.
(That one is pink with a whimsical blue cat on the front.
It's like a cartoon mug.
I kinda like the Robert one better.)
Anyway, that's my Robert cup, now enjoying his permanent place in the cupboard
beside the pink tea cup with the whimsical blue cartoon cat.
None of our coffee cups match, so this didn't upset the cupboardly arrangement.
I know I'm going to get that question again, though, when anyone sees it..
* Anyone catch that (intentional) wacky sequence? (1) (B) ...etc. It reminds me sometimes of the "Now I'm going to illustrate three examples..." , and the speaker only gives you two. Or how about this one: "A, it's free; and (2), it won't cost you anything." (What's your point? says the reader. No point. Just a mini observation of little consciousness of how we sometimes sound. It was a private joke that went south, real real quick. Delete.)
That said, I don't know why they needed to repeat Robert's name four times. Once would have been sufficient.
Visually, it's almost like the cup's silently calling his name, loudly at first, and then the voice kind of lapses into a whisper.
ROBERT ROBERT ROBERT ROBERT. ha ha. (Deafening silence: he doesn't answer.) I also got three belts and a baseball cap at the flea market, plus a(nother!) French dictionary and someone's home-recorded CD of 17 Puccini opera arias. Why are there four separate tracks of "O Mio Babbino Caro?" (according to the hand-written notepaper stuck inside). I can't wait to listen to this. A good afternoon, all in all. And I'm now the proud owner of an imported ceramic Robert cup! Woo hoo!