A Birds Nest

The Institution

There are so many rules in life, aren’t there? Rules which seem only there to upset and irritate. Rules which confound and question so much that getting out of bed and having a wee seems like too much of a chore. I know what you’re thinking: traffic rules, school rules, tax rules, bank rules–wife rules. The list is endless. Everything has rules, but there is also a good reason alongside all the dastardly ones put in place to basically rape, pillage and steal tax-payers money (but you didn’t hear that from me). The reason is: everything that is worthwhile must be regulated. So it goes without saying that Tea, which has to be one of the all-time greatest things ever, has some pretty heavy rules on it. I’m not talking about strict rules here—rules designed to catch you out—I’m talking about rules which have been the same for centuries. Their purpose: to keep tea-drinking the hallowed activity which it began its life on Earth as.

Back in the day, Tea was only drunk by a select group of people: those over 60 who knew every last detail of how to make a superb cuppa. It wasn’t that anyone below that age was below making a good cup, just that the best cups were—and some say always will be—produced by the old men and women of our country. They knew the importance of hallowed tea making rituals, you see. The slippers, the aprons, the “hello dear”–all that was a front for a secret institution designed purposely to protect Tea. And the funniest thing is this: the older the woman, and the more wrinkles on the face, the higher-up the chain they were.

Which brings us to old-people homes: these used to be where the greatest tea was produced. Some conspiracy theorists argue that to this day they harbor a network of undercover prime quality tea makers.

I think I have a solution for what we should put together for Kay’s engagement party. We should arrange some ski holidays as a surprise! You have all heard her complaining that she didn’t get to the slopes this year.