You simply can't beat a good cup of tea

You simply can't beat a good cup of tea

In a letter to ''Postbag'' during the week a reader attributed his mother's longevity partly to having a taste for ''expensive tea''. This is encouraging news, as I can't get started in the morning without a couple of cups _ OK, mugs _ of English breakfast tea, which definitely isn't cheap.

Tea purportedly heightens alertness, although I suspect that is not the case with me.

I was brought up drinking tea. One of my childhood duties was the important task of warming the tea pot, before adding two spoonfuls of tea leaves. This was in the days before tea bags, which were to make things a lot more convenient.

Even when tea bags were introduced in the mid 1950s, my mother initially didn't approve of them, feeling they were a bit vulgar and not quite the real thing. However, the practicality of tea bags over messy tea leaves eventually won her over. Nonetheless she always apologised to visitors if she used tea bags, as if it was some kind of social lapse.

Cosy chat

I was also put in charge of the tea cosy. This was a very responsible position for a youngster as the cosy played the essential role of keeping the tea warm while my mother and her friends spent hours in the sitting room discussing meaningful matters, otherwise known as ''gossiping about the neighbours''. I swear we had the same tea cosy for about 20 years and it was almost regarded as a household pet.

I think it was comedian Billy Connolly who came up with the thought-provoking line, ''Never trust a man who, when left alone in a room with a tea cosy, doesn't try it on.''

And yes, it's time for Crutch to come out of the closet and confess to having put a tea cosy on my head on more than one occasion.

A 'China drink'

Tea consumption is so ingrained in the culture it is estimated the average Briton drinks four cups a day. More importantly, without tea there would never have been the ''tea break'', such an essential part of the British worker's life.

Over the years, tea has had some notable proponents. One of the early converts was Samuel Pepys, who in 1660 wrote favourably in his diary about what he called ''a China drink''.

Tea is a multi-purpose beverage, providing not only sustenance, but also therapy. As 19th century British statesman William Gladstone noted. ''If you are cold, tea will warm you. If you are too heated, it will cool you. If you are depressed, it will cheer you. If you are excited, it will calm you.''

I wonder if Gladstone ever put a tea cosy on his head?

Author George Orwell was partial to a cuppa and in 1946 he wrote a passionate article for the Evening Standard entitled ''A Nice Cup of Tea'' and referred to the drink as ''one of the mainstays of civilisation in this country''.

Dropping in for a cuppa

It is a British tradition to offer a cup of tea, no matter what the circumstances. My favourite tale, which I admit to having mentioned before in this column a couple of years ago, came in 1940 during the Battle of Britain.

Two ladies walking on the Sussex Downs saw a German Messerschmitt crash and later discovered the injured Luftwaffe pilot nearby, lying on the ground. As they approached, the fearful pilot raised his hands and asked ''are you going to shoot me?'' One of the ladies replied: ''No, we don't do that in England. Would you like a cup of tea?''

He probably got some biscuits too.

Monkey business

In the 1960s in Britain we were bombarded with tea advertisements on television. ''Brook Bond, the tea you can really taste'' was perhaps the most memorable as it used chimpanzees, helped by voices from the likes of Peter Sellers and actors from the Carry On fim series. In one ad, to the sound of 007 music, a chimpanzee wearing a smart white jacket and a black bow tie enters a room and announces in sophisticated fashion ''My name is Bond, Brook Bond.''

In another, a weary British chimpanzee cycling in the Tour de France asks in a strong northern accent: ''Avez vous un cuppa?''

Maybe it was the monkeys who were responsible for the graffiti which appeared in several places in London which read ''Coffee is not my cup of tea.''

Harold the slurper

We had a milkman in the 1960s called Harold, whose son was a professional footballer for our hometown team. Every Saturday morning, while on his rounds, Harold was invited into our kitchen for a cup of tea and he would relate all the behind the scenes news about the club. What intrigued me as much as the football tittle-tattle was that Harold would never drink his tea from the cup. Instead he poured the tea into the saucer and merrily slurped away, spilling half of it in the process.

It looked like fun, so I tried the saucer-slurping method once at breakfast and got a clip round the ear from my mother. My plea of ''that's how Harold drinks it'' simply drew the response ''only the milkman's allowed to drink like that.''

Well, after all that, I think I deserve a nice cuppa ... preferably without the monkeys.


Contact PostScript via email at oldcrutch@hotmail.com

Roger Crutchley

Bangkok Post columnist

A long time popular Bangkok Post columnist. In 1994 he won the Ayumongkol Literary Award. For many years he was Sports Editor at the Bangkok Post.

Email : oldcrutch@gmail.com

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