That title’s almost definitely missing a comma but I’m sure we can live with such a travesty. You’re probably mature enough to handle it. Let’s get onto the infinitely more fascinating topic at hand, tea. I’ve previously touched upon my life of the frankly fantastic liquid (I am in no way overcompensating for the fact that I don’t enjoy coffee especially when you take into account that I have decided that green tea isn’t for me either. And I have milk with tea. Heinous as far as ‘authentic’ or ‘serious’ tea users probably feel). But what I’ve never attended is a bona fide tea party.
Sure, I’ve gone for afternoon tea several times. It’s an activity that has a particularly special place in my heart for various reasons and not just because of the clotted cream deposits in my major arteries. But what constitutes a tea party? Probably more than two people (or on an especially desperate day, me alone hunched over the scones daring anyone to attempt to take them away from me) for one thing.
You probably have to wear something a little more special than jeans and a stripy top. There may be patterned dresses or skirts involved. Especially flattering on the chaps I feel. There’s friendship all about and special fancy little cakes with buttery icing and more calories than is good for anyone really but only adds an extra layer of cheerful decadence to proceedings.
Maybe I’m getting a little bit too excited, lending inflated niceness to proceedings but I do think it would be lovely. There’s something special about catching up with old friends over a pot of tea. Perhaps you disagree, let’s find out whose right then. What I suggest is that in the morning of the future (i.e. sooner rather than later) we all get together for a tea party. We can debate as to whether the cream or jam goes on top and such. I definitely won’t regret this proposal when I have hundreds of folk turning up on my doorstep demanding sanctuary and access to my kettle.
Song choices courtesy of: Tom Howe, 3 Doors Down and The Coral