It was while I was cycling across Canada somewhere in the prairies. We'd been through about eight days of headwind and rain, which had taken it's toll on our morale to say the least. This day hadn't started much better with heavy showers giving way to strong gusts blowing grit and dust off the road and the verges.
About mid afternoon, still a bit damp from the morning's rain, we pulled into a small farming/lake town and, in the mood for a break, pulled into a quaint little cafe/gift shop. Instead of the solicitous service and massive jugs of stewed coffee on a hotplates, we were greeted by a pleasantly soft spoken Lancastrian lady who was immediately pleased for the chance to sit with a couple of people from the home country. She ushered us into the washroom for a quick freshen up and told her husband to take over the shop because "I've got to brew up a cuppa for these 'uns here". By the time we emerged from the toilets she'd cleared some lingerers from the sofa's by the window and had set out a large plain blue teapot, a jug of milk, a pot of sugar, some large mugs and a plate of choccy hobnobs "what me sister sent over last month and I was saving for special". For about an hour we sat there, looking out over a beautiful lake at a clearing sky, chatting about everything, drinking tea and nibbling biscuits. You couldn't have made it any better with any special blends of tea or delicate china or anything else.
That's the best cup of tea, something nice and simple, when you most need it, served by a friendly face of someone who's pleased to see you and understands that tea is more than just a hot liquid in a drinking vessel.
I remember the best cup of tea I ever had.
It was while I was cycling across Canada somewhere in the prairies. We'd been through about eight days of headwind and rain, which had taken it's toll on our morale to say the least. This day hadn't started much better with heavy showers giving way to strong gusts blowing grit and dust off the road and the verges.
About mid afternoon, still a bit damp from the morning's rain, we pulled into a small farming/lake town and, in the mood for a break, pulled into a quaint little cafe/gift shop. Instead of the solicitous service and massive jugs of stewed coffee on a hotplates, we were greeted by a pleasantly soft spoken Lancastrian lady who was immediately pleased for the chance to sit with a couple of people from the home country. She ushered us into the washroom for a quick freshen up and told her husband to take over the shop because "I've got to brew up a cuppa for these 'uns here". By the time we emerged from the toilets she'd cleared some lingerers from the sofa's by the window and had set out a large plain blue teapot, a jug of milk, a pot of sugar, some large mugs and a plate of choccy hobnobs "what me sister sent over last month and I was saving for special". For about an hour we sat there, looking out over a beautiful lake at a clearing sky, chatting about everything, drinking tea and nibbling biscuits. You couldn't have made it any better with any special blends of tea or delicate china or anything else.
That's the best cup of tea, something nice and simple, when you most need it, served by a friendly face of someone who's pleased to see you and understands that tea is more than just a hot liquid in a drinking vessel.