WhAt's In a tEa PoT?

Cats piss if you under-brew it according to my grandfather.

He would frown disapproving of the general impatient of those for who a cup would come out translucent amber. Cats piss indeed.

He used to climb up the creaking narrow and short stairs with a little brown pot for two to their room - sharply for 7am and the news got clicked on. He had to duck on the top landing - he was a tall man with a prominent nose.

In the afternoon the pot would make its second and last appearance. At 11am it was coffee time - no need for the crockery. It was a sort of post snooze pick me up with a slice of juicy cake or crumbly cookies. In the conservatory or by the fire depending on the season, but the time was never changed - 4pm on the dot.

It's when these procedures slipped, the sequence and roles changed that we knew time was imposing its decadence...

It does go by with the good and the bad, the tears and the laughter, and has now left the house now empty.

One of those pots is now in my cupboard, waiting for me to create my own teacup theatrics.