Coffee, l love, but black tea is in my DNA. I drink it in "the midday sun" for sure (a nod here to Englishman Noel Coward and his odd Colonialist lyrics.) I have a cuppa with milk and a small biscuit almost every afternoon. A personal ritual like this is the reward (or the distraction) of an afternoon's work.
Recently, my favorite tea pot came up missing. I know, how can a ceramic teapot just disappear from a household? Every cabinet searched. Every corner examined. No tea pot. During summer, I drink less hot-from-pot tea, so I'm not sure when I last saw this beloved vessel with the most exquisite turquoise glaze. I've illustrated this tea pot I was so fond of it. No one who lives here is giving me any details of it's departure. I'm suspicious. Anyway, it's gone now, and I accept the loss. So I bought a replacement yesterday at the Artisans Gallery. It's another ceramic one- the artist's name escapes me, but I will locate it and post it later. It's a beautiful round shape, very much a Brown Betty with an earthy glaze. So I've call her Betty, my new tea pot. I hope she brings forth many a good cup of tea, and conversation and inspiration in the years I have her. Come by for a cup, even if you're not a mad dog, or English!
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