How I Developed a Taste for Tea

When I read novels written by a British author, the author spends at least 10 pages per book talking about the characters drinking tea.

I had tasted tea. It always reminded me of the green mush I periodically knock off the bottom of the lawnmower. What's the attraction?

Then my friends Mary and Rebekkah went to Britain. Out of curiousity, I asked them to bring back some real British tea. Maybe it would de-mystify those weeds.

The first thing they did when they got to their destination was buy me my tea. They wanted to avoid suddenly remembering their mission for me at the very end of their journey when the money was all gone.

They put it in their backpack, complete with the little plastic bag from the store, and carried the stuff all over for the entire trip, packing and unpacking it at every stop.

When they finally returned and saw me at church, Rebekkah shouted, "HERE'S YOUR TEA!!!!!!" and chucked it at me across the sanctuary. The name of the store that was once printed on the little bag was now almost completely rubbed off. The bottom of the box had a price tag: "5 pounds."

I took it home, boiled some water, and read the instructions. Please read with a nice, thick British accent:

Brew with strength and serve with milk. ...As if the British need instructions on the box as to how to make tea.

So, I tried strong tea with milk. I liked it. I drink it almost every day.