I love tea. I just love it. The taste of it, the warming effect it has, the ritual of making it. (The cake I eat with it…)
Except wait. No longer can I enjoy a simple cup of tea, one of life’s little pleasures. Because, not content with ruining my social life and my pelvic floor, my children now ruin my tea-drinking on a daily basis. I consider it a good day if I’ve managed one really good, hot cup of tea, in peace. Because, let’s face it, a luke-warm cup gulped down in between umpiring a wrestling match between two squalling dictators is no pleasure whatsoever. I could cry at the PG Tips wastage that goes on in this house.