"...'What kind of tea?'"
I've written before about my tea habit. It has been said that I have more tea running through my veins than blood... I can't deny it -
I love tea.
So you can imagine my surprise when I found that I was drinking NO TEA for days. I had started a new job and was too nervous to make myself a cup of tea. It was my eighth day at work today and I finally took the plunge and had a cuppa at my desk. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. Obviously no one batted an eyelid, but to me it was significant; I felt comfortable enough to be myself - I felt at home.
Perhaps you don't understand how serious my tea addiction is. Many people like tea, many people drink a lot of it - probably more than I do - but they do not have the emotional attachment that I do. In my first year of uni I lived in catered halls, we got breakfast and dinner. Now judge me if you will, but most of the time I was unable to crawl out of my bed in time to make the (10 o'clock finish?) breakfast. Not such a big deal really, except I was too cheap to buy anything for lunch... Each room had a little mini fridge that was just warm enough to keep a pint of milk for a couple of days before turning it to cheese, so I would rise about 10am and break my fast with a nice pot of tea. A little later I might feel a bit peckish. A normal person would leave their room and buy some food. Not me, oh no, that would involve getting out of my pyjamas! (The horror!) Nope, I would boil up the kettle and have another pot. And then another...and another...and another...and then I'd need to pee an awful lot.
To cut a long story short, I drank so much tea that it inhibited the iron uptake in my blood and I became severely anaemic (apparently my red blood cells were a quarter of the size they should have been). This made me more tired, which made me less inclined to get up for breakfast or to leave my room for anything other than lectures, going out in the evening, and watching dvds at my friend's room. So I ate less and drank more tea. I realised things had gone too far when I started getting the shakes if I'd gone too long without a fix, but I still can't break the feeling that each cup is my sole source of nourishment.
Now I drink a healthy amount and I think I appreciate each cup. There's something that speaks to the soul during you first real slurp (the first sip doesn't count as it's always too hot to really taste). I can feel the warmth slip down my throat and into my belly. An ease spills across my shoulders and down through my arms. I relax. The sharp edges of my surroundings soften and I'm hugged by the room. Things smell better, colours brighten. My mouth feels silky and my spit tastes sweet.
If I'm hungry, it fills me; if I'm cold, it warms. If I'm struggling with writer's block, it inspires me; if I'm tense, it soothes me. It's my wake up in the mornings, and my good night in the evening. It's an excellent post-dinner tummy-settler, and with a biscuit it's a proper good snack.
I have begun to court my love in a new work environment. We have been reunited and my life is better for it. A strong Assam, a delicate Darjeeling or a reliable breakfast brew; three faces of my beloved. Tea.
* Quote from Neil Gaiman
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