I’ve said it once (admittedly not recently😅😅) and I’ll say it again. There’s nothing a good cup of tea☕ can’t make better. Pain, turmoil, drama, even hastening financial ruin💰. If only for the briefest of seconds, tea shines a glimmer of hope into the most unlikely of darknesses. Hot or cold, or that terrifying in-between when you’ve forgotten completely about your tea but definitely yes make me another one and here use the same mug I’ll just drink whatever this horrifying luke-warm concoction is to empty it okay? 😅
I’ve been conditioned to live this way.
Your buttocks need only lightly brush against the cushion of a seat in my family home before somebody asks you if you’d like a cup of tea. The correct answer is yes. We live in an alternate universe where ‘no’ and ‘I don’t like tea’ aren’t really options.
I don’t know whether it’s the conditioning, or the fact I am entirely fuelled by tea, but it inspires me more often than not. When I don’t know where to start in life, work, or writing, I’ll brew a particularly strong fruit tea and cradle it against my chest — an old habit developed because I’m always cold (seriously, always, although tbh living in the Caribbean instead of Scotland is definitely helping with this). I like to think that if I hold tea close enough to my heart its warmth will become my warmth, even if momentarily.
I think it’s the act more than the caffeine that switches something on in my mind. A cup of tea held between my fingers and suddenly my neurons are firing properly again, showing me the path down this winding road of a novel I’m writing.