Cuppa anyone?

One of the single greatest pleasures in the world is a well made cup of tea.  And five minutes to enjoy it.  I will freely admit that I’m a bit of a tea snob.  I love it.  I used to hate tea bags and would only drink ‘real tea’ (and only from a tea cup) from a freshly brewed pot.  I’m not so picky anymore and have, grudgingly, accepted the convenience of a tea bag on the daily (and I’ll settle for a nice mug) BUT – the weekend is for pots.

This is my amazing hoya.  I can still hear my nan saying 'I'll just go and put the tea on the hoya".
This is my amazing hoya. I can still hear my nan saying ‘I’ll just go and put the tea on the hoya”.

I credit my nan with introducing me to the fine art of tea.  Always a pot,a cup and saucer, a table cloth and an assortment of freshly handmade goodies.  Always.  Rain, hail or shine.  Day after day and sometimes several times a day depending on the amount of visitors she had.  She was the best at many things, but making tea was definitely up there.  And sitting around the laminex table with the wood stove going and a bottomless pot are where some of my happiest memories were made.

Tea has played a big role in my life and I was an early adopter (in my lifetime, I wasn’t there when it was invented – that I know of anyway) of High Tea.  We celebrated my mum’s 50th with High Tea at The Windsor and Shane thought that was such a ripping afternoon he used another High Tea a few years later to propose to me.  He must have known that tea would help seal the deal.  I once thought I’d branch out and go to a High Tea at The Langham.  I was mortified that they used bags IN THE POTS.  Needless to say I’ve never been back.

Spot the wind chime.  My dad made me this out of an old tea pot and some cutlery.
Spot the wind chime. My dad made me this out of an old tea pot and some cutlery.

I love tea so much that I have a tea pot tattooed on my wrist.  It’s a homage to my nan – and pop – because he too was a connoisseur of tea.

He said it was the best teapot he'd ever done.  At that point, it was the only one.
He said it was the best teapot he’d ever done. At that point, it was the only one.

The other day Shane wanted a tea (English Breakfast, white, no sugar – he never deviates) and he looked around the kitchen in despair wondering ‘where is the one I just put milk in?’  He was also a bit fussy and wanted cow’s milk as opposed to almond.  Note – nan’s original tea canister.  I like to think it helps me make better tea.  It is reserved for English Breakfast.

Cats on a teapot - what more could you want? (Incidentally, I also have a tattoo of a cat).
Cats on a teapot – what more could you want? (Incidentally, I also have a tattoo of a cat).

When in Melbourne last week I went and visited T2 which is my absolute heaven.  If I was better at dealing with the general public, I’d love to work there.  The smell, the decor, the aprons the workers get to wear and I imagine they get staff discount. Anyway I stocked up on some essentials and so did Buttsy (remember her from last time – she with the nickname?) turns out, the two lovely workers were named Hannah and Caitlin.  Shut the front door.  That’s OUR names!!! What are the chances of two ‘Hannah and Caitlins’ in the same place at the same time.  If I were better at this whole social media/selfie thing, I would have taken a picture.

I've even a little tea cup wind chime as a sort of doorbell.
I’ve even a little tea cup wind chime as a sort of doorbell.

My current favourite drop is T2’s Buddha’s Tears – a mix of green and jasmine in tight little balls that unfurl as it brews.  Heaven.  However, a sentimental favourite will always be a strong English Breakfast (so strong that a spoon could stand up in it – I think I’ve mucked that saying up but it’s what pop used to say) with a dash of milk and one and a quarter sugars (I’m still sort of ‘quitting sugar’ so I’m not having this one at the moment) in a proper tea cup with some of Aunty Em’s ginger biscuits on the side.

If you’re still reading, thanks for indulging me.  This has been quite the Friday night ramble.  I’ve been trying to write about 500 words because that is apparently the perfect blog post but I just can’t be that succinct.  Verbosity for life!

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