I was over reading WNP this morning when I got to an entry about tea. It was a great entry and I was a little put off that I couldn’t comment on it as the entry is old and the comment section are closed for it. An epiphany happened as I realized that I have my own damn blog in which I can write as many comments as I damn well felt like. So here I am ready to tell you all about ME (it’s all about ME in this here blog) and tea. I can sense your enthusiasm already. Of course, I do run the risk of you all heading your ass over to WNP and reading her entry about tea and having yourself a big ole “blog entry about tea” comparison in which I lose miserably as I don’t write nearly enough anymore and she’s all cool and foreign and shit and I’m not. Again, stop with the enthusiasm, it’s practically deafening.
SO YES! Tea…
I will begin this tale by letting you know that growing up in the quiet suburbs of Wisconsin, my mother would make me tea and toast whenever I was ill with fever. Seeing my mother slide into my room with that little white cup meant only one thing – it was ‘Price is Right’ and ‘Love Connection’ all morning baby, with a splash of Nickelodeon and crap cartoons in the afternoon. My mother always made Lipton tea with milk and honey and while plopping it down in front me would announce, “This is the way the English drink it!” I love my mother, but my mother gets “ideas”, if you know what I mean.
I didn’t know about my mother’s “ideas” back then. Like most children under the age of 10, I tended to take anything my parents said as the Absolute Truth. It’s was only at age 34, when I made my first cup of tea for my English boyfriend asking him very politely if he’d like it with milk and honey like “the English drink it” that I realized that some of my mother’s “ideas” might have gone amiss. And here I thought I had my tea follies eradicated by never referring to Lipton as “real tea”. I know better now.
I drink tea a lot, though probably more so than ever before considering Andy’s influence in my life. We drink PG Tips tea mostly, and I still take mine with milk and sugar (honey when I’m sick, some things never die). What I like about living with Andy in regards to tea is that he finds it impossible to turn down the offer of a cuppa. “It’s in my blood, I can’t refuse!” he will exclaim. It’s true. He could have just opened a beer and I’ll say, “Care for a cuppa?” and he’ll dutifully respond, “Oh, go on then.” Or he’ll be ready to go to bed, “Oh, go on then.” Late for work…”Oh, go on then.” Herd of elephants about to attack…”Oh, go on then.” What I find incredibly funny, besides his inability to refuse, is that he rarely actually DRINKS the tea. He’ll have a couple sips but more often than not, the tea will sit there over half full getting stronger in taste and colder by touch. It’s almost as though he just likes the IDEA of the cuppa sitting there. Funny Brit.
In regards to WNP, I would have to agree, there is nothing better than a cuppa with a Digestive or chocolate Hob Nob. I’d elaborate, but she said it a lot better than me.
All this talk has made me want a cup. Hey Andy, care for a cuppa?