Every Wednesday morning, I have 2 slices of wheat bread and mug of tea. Sister Una persisted in her quest to fix me breakfast since over a year ago and after 6 months of "Can I get you breakfast Josephine?" in a thick Irish accent, hunger triumphed over politeness. I look forward to Wednesday morning tea, because if there is one thing I took away after 2 years in East Sussex, it's the appreciation of the very English mad tea obssession.
Sister Una makes Dilmah Morning Fresh Unblended tea with a generous pour of Meadow Fresh Low Fat Long Life Milk (I know, I peeked into the cupboard and refrigerator), no sugar added, served piping hot in a big blue ikea mug. It is, honestly, the best cup of tea I've had in my life. I have been trying my best to find these 2 items in our local supermarkets but have not been lucky yet. But you know something, I suspect I'll never be able to recreate that cup of Wednesday morning tea even if I get the proportions exactly right. It's one of those conundrums isn't it? Perhaps it was more the the act, place and person that makes it taste as good as it does, and it will be one of the things that I will miss very much when she returns back to Ireland.
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