What’s more comforting than a cup of tea? I’ve grown up on tea; some of my earliest memories are of hounding my grandmother for a fresh pot of tea—at the time a small, plastic toy—each time I saw her with one. My love for the beverage has only grown through the years. Can you become actually addicted to it? I’m convinced of it. If I don’t have a cup in the morning, I find myself miserable and depressed. Morning just start better with the brew. On my worst days, I’ll sooth my soul with four or five cups, each a different kind. Variation shakes things up, while still keeping me in my comfort zone. A friend of mine gave me a lovely, juicy-orange tea mug with the popular saying “tea is liquid wisdom” on it. I tend to agree.
One of the most endearing things I find a character in a novel can do is sit down for a cup of tea. It’s a reoccurring theme that all tea-lovers can relate to. I think the scene where tea is involved that most sticks in my memory is in Rosamunde Pilcher’s “Coming Home.” Judith has just had, to put it lightly, a falling out with the man she loves, has decided that she must leave the place that has become her home, and—to top it all off—has a splitting headache. The solution offered to her by a helping hand? Let’s have a nice, steaming cup of tea. Of course, everything seems clearer after. Why not? Today I’ll leave you with a quote that I cherish as summing me up nicely in only a single sentence:
“You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.” ~C.S. Lewis
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