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I awoke, fed the dogs, gave Aunt Tudi her insulin shot, then put on a pot of hot water.
This is a tradition in the Evans household. We always feed the dogs, attend to the the medicine, then prepare the water for a cuppa. Aunt Tudi drinks coffee. I have tea. For some time now, thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gunslingaaahhh, I've had Earl Grey Tea. This tea makes me homesick for Britain. I can see myself getting up in the morning, coming down the narrow stairs, tromping through the living room and into the kitchen. I'd make sure the cats had food and put the tea kettle on. While I waited for the water, I'd butter some toast. The kettle would whistle and I'd start the process of steeping the tea while I waited on the toast. Once the tea and toast was ready, I'd repair to the living room to check email, pet the cats, listen to some music, and drink my tea.
This would inspire me to write on my book and be all English and whatnot.
I don't know. I'm dreaming. I so desperately want to live in the West Country, it's utterly ridiculous. I want to hear the ice cream man come by playing the theme song for Monty Python. I want to practice rituals on the Uffington White Horse and meditate after climbing the Giant's Stair. I thought the feeling would fade with time. But it's been almost four years now and my longing is deeper and more intense than ever.
And all this grows with a cuppa tea each morning.
This is a tradition in the Evans household. We always feed the dogs, attend to the the medicine, then prepare the water for a cuppa. Aunt Tudi drinks coffee. I have tea. For some time now, thanks to
gunslingaaahhh, I've had Earl Grey Tea. This tea makes me homesick for Britain. I can see myself getting up in the morning, coming down the narrow stairs, tromping through the living room and into the kitchen. I'd make sure the cats had food and put the tea kettle on. While I waited for the water, I'd butter some toast. The kettle would whistle and I'd start the process of steeping the tea while I waited on the toast. Once the tea and toast was ready, I'd repair to the living room to check email, pet the cats, listen to some music, and drink my tea.This would inspire me to write on my book and be all English and whatnot.
I don't know. I'm dreaming. I so desperately want to live in the West Country, it's utterly ridiculous. I want to hear the ice cream man come by playing the theme song for Monty Python. I want to practice rituals on the Uffington White Horse and meditate after climbing the Giant's Stair. I thought the feeling would fade with time. But it's been almost four years now and my longing is deeper and more intense than ever.
And all this grows with a cuppa tea each morning.
