Day 57. Tea Time

As a youngster I hated tea.  I associated it with being sick.  Because any time I had a cold, or an upset stomach, my mother would make me drink tea.  Even having ‘high tea’ in London didn’t turn me into a fan.  Loved the scones, the clotted cream, the jam, the cucumber sandwiches, the ‘ceremony’, the pomp, the circumstance, the pretty china, the silver, the Dorchester Hotel.  But the tea, itself … not so much.

And then, suddenly, about six or so years ago, I developed a fondness for it.  Totally out of the blue.  Earl Grey, with a squeeze of lemon and a bit of honey.  Ginger honey, preferably.  So good.  It’s gentle.  Calming.  It feels like a treat.  It has the same effect on me as a lovely, warm bath.  It leaves me satisfied, glowing, mellow, slightly drowsy, and feeling cosseted.

There’s a genuine sense of well-being in every cup.

In India I became positively addicted to ginger tea.  Also masala tea; and even chai.  Once you’ve had tea there, you’re never the same.  Aside from the taste, which is exquisite, they