I love tea, I truly do. I never drink coffee, and I don’t see why my fellow people do. Non-the-less my friends love their pungent brown beans, so when we get together, that’s what they drink. That’s fine by me; it inspired the creation of this much finer web site.

Today was another coffee-morning get-together. With my one cup of tea. The company was lovely but the tea was lousy. Same as always of course. Here’s how is usually goes…

We’re at someone’s house. Friends and I all sitting ’round the table. Friends going to have coffee, I’m going to be served ‘tea’. I’m given my cup and the heated kettle – but as yet no tea.

Kettle, cup and I wait, even more time goes by. Friends keep chatting, then hostess remembers my drink. Voila, out comes a tea bag. If I’m lucky it’s not herbal, no grass with water for me. So, bag in cup, we’re still pining for the kettle. Water’s lukewarm by now, no need for an ambulance should it spill.

Finally, poured in my cup, the water turns palest brown. There’s the dark blob of the bag, and some lightly stained aqua. No way will the two really mix. The water’s too cool, the bag never once stood a chance. I let it steep as long as I can, but I don’t like my tea arctic cold. When there’s truly no life in the feeble sack, I abandon it on my plate. I pick up my cup and peer inside. Staring back at me, is the weakest of sickly teas. I should feel sorry for it’s unhappy state, but it’s me I’m thinking about. And I’m the poor sod to drink it. Sip, by hesitant sip. Close my eyes and think of better days.

“How’s the tea today?”

“Absolutely foul my dear, every little drop. Like slurping on cold puddle soup.”

Except you’d never hear me say that. Call me a coward, but I love my friends. Just truly don’t like their tea. Click through to continue reading…