I stumble downstairs to a waiting mug that Himself has made, our favourite - Scottish tea collected on our holidays. Mumbling incoherent morning themed words that don't necessarily make any sense. .. somehow I manage to make four lunches, three breakfasts, put on makeup and brush my hair into some sort of submission then drive to work. ..
Still bordering on incoherent I arrive at work and the first thing I do is to switch the kettle on, toss a teabag in my mug then put down my bag, coat, camera and keys. Just enough time for it to brew. Hmmm, sipping the over-hot first mouthful kickstarts me into action.
Usually an hour later, when the next wave of staff arrive - would be churlish not to participate. ..
The next few..
Well this is where exactly how many I actually make and drink gets a little hazy however I suspect I average one an hour. .. shhhhh don't tell the tea police! Depending on my mood it will be a peppermint or green or chai tea, each has it's merits, each comforting a need.
Over the lunch hours, half the staff evaporate and the rest have what has affectionately become termed as our lunchtime tipple. ..yes you guessed. .. tea, for me it will be a smokey tasting Assam.
My turn for lunch, a swapping of staff, the click of the kettle, a swish of a spoon and the splash of milk, this time a rich red Yorkshire tea.
Lunch hour gone with a blink of an eye. The consolation mug of tea accompanies and fortifies me as I return to work.
Three o'clock herelds the the arrival of steaming mugs, our appreciative hmmmms confirm our pleasure as we sip the almost scalding liquid. Our days are often so busy that if we don't seize the moment to drink our brew whilst still hot, we end up downing it when it is tepid...
The one for the road.
If there is time, I'll join in with the evening staff for a final cup of cha... to get me home.
The one sitting down with Himself.
A calmative restorative mug where the balance is restored, I breathe, we talk, we share stories and feel the day disappear and fade away leaving just him, the boys and me.
This last Friday evening, fingers curled around a huge mug of steaming Scottish tea, we watched three pipistrelle bats flit noiselessly through the trees. We listened to the evening songs eminating from the bird filled trees.
We sat, holding now empty mugs and listened as the village became quiet and the sky darkened.
Do you mark your day with the click of the kettle ?
Is it punctuated by mugs of tea?
Are you a connoissuer or a tea-pig?
What is your favourite brew? (Of the tea variety of course! !)
And, as you probably have guessed by now, as I type this, I am accompanied by my mug of tea.