A Cup of Tea

Growing up in former British colonies in Africa, I often indulged in the ceremony known as tea time. It’s a simple thing; held partway between lunch and dinner. Tea time includes, of course, a pot of the tea of your choice (mine usually being English or Irish Breakfast) and a simple snack. The snack can be as straightforward as toast with some butter and jam or scones and crème. Cookies and finger sandwiches are also acceptable. 

It is amazing how such an uncomplicated thing as a cup of tea can leave such a lasting impact on a life. I may not keep religiously the proper tea time anymore, (I usually have it towards bedtime now) nor do I eat the standard fair either, but the tea is still there; as are its connected feelings.

A cup of tea, which is to be had regularly, can do many things for a person. It is a relaxer and a cool down from a long day. It can serve as a pick-me-up on a particularly grey afternoon. Or a warm up on a chilly winter morning. But a cup of tea can also be a trip back through memory and time. To people who’ve shared a cup with you and to far off places where a cup has been enjoyed.

I can remember sunsets, hotel gardens, toast triangles and laughter. 

We had some South African friends when I lived in Botswana who lived some miles away from anybody. We would often go to their house for dinner, or when it was warm, to swim in their “pool”. But one thing I recall most clearly is sitting on a patio in back of the house and sipping on cups and cups of tea. The view was out over a valley filled with only scrub trees and the occasional obstinate quadruped. It was, for lack of a better word, peaceful. 

Whenever my family had enough money to stay at a hotel, which was somewhat rare, we would spend many an hour pool side. Between long bouts of play (and breath holding competitions) we would have tea brought out to us. I remember cradling the warm cup to my chest against the slight chill of a breeze. My family seemed to collectively lay back and take it all in, savoring the simple joy of it all.

My mother recalls a time when she was younger and was in hospital for a minor operation.  How everyday at teatime she was served this delicious milky tea. As odd as it sounds, even this small thing is a pleasant memory. The tea made the time good.

I do encourage you to have a cup (or a few) with friends and family. To share and swap warm memories, and to create new ones. Sure it is just a drink, but the emotions and personal histories tied to it are strong. Plus, it just tastes good. I’ll take mine with extra sugar please.