I think that’s a little bit cruel.
I write this every day, pretty much first thing after I wake up (okay, so I drift around on the internet for a patch first, letting the question sink in with web ccomics and news reports…and in this particular case, some ancient history of an imaginary unicerse). Of course I want tea; it’s the morning and I have a day to get through. A whole day. Tea would be lovely. Like a dream come true.
And you are far away.
Being bought tea in bed is the greatest decadence, and I consider it a beautiful honour when it happens, like a gift from the unknown (not the unknown, of course, it’s a gift from whosoever brings me tea, who should be lauded through the remainder of history).
Tea is good.
Little else can soothe and stimulate in such a perfect balance. Though the pretty sounding rain that’s just opened onto the world outside definitely helps.
It’s stopped now, and while I’ve left the bed for a brief while (a positive step towards the day, I took a crap) I still haven’t motivated myself to go down and make tea. No time. Must type, then decide if I have time for such decadences later. It’s a stressful morning, so I hope I do. I have to negotiate an awkward bureaucracy shortly, and possibly bend truths some. This is not easy for me. I’m no liar, particularly at authority figures.
So, yes. Tea is going to help.
I’ve talked before about the bonding social ritual of a cup of tea.
There’s a lot of elements to tea that make it good. One simply being that it’s a manner of brief service. It’s a gift to someone. It’s something naturally shared. You get to prove to someone you care to some extent. I even like to make it work two fold. I’ll demonstrate to someone that I feel both at home in their home (a nice feeling, hopefully for both parties) and in their debt by offering them a cup of tea in their own home.
Perhaps it lacks social grace, but I think it brings a closeness with it. Even if technically I’m just stealing your teabags, milk, sugar and electricity and offering it back to you.
It’s okay, though, because everyone feels closer and more settled at the end. Tea, to a large extent, makes a home feel at home (and makes places far away feel homelier than they should, which is why you always have tiny kettles in hotel rooms; it’s the only homely you’re going to get).
So yes. The answer is that I would like a cup of tea, and so it’s quite cruel to not be available to make one. I’ll do it myself shall I?
There’s nothing wrong with making tea for yourself, of course. It’s good to have a cosy ritual, and you still end up with a cup of tea.
Anyone want one while I’m up?
Illustration by Adam.