Behind the Ironic Column

Rummaging through the kitchen cabinet or, more accurately, rummaging through the boxes on top of the counter, I finally find some sealed foil pouches of Earl Grey.  I knew there had to be some.  I don’t drink tea so often these days – some switch seems to have turned to coffee for the moment.  But it’s not possible that I wouldn’t have some around the house.  When I worked in an office, I drank tea at my desk.  The big advantage of a mug of tea is that it’s perfectly acceptable lukewarm, whereas coffee needs to be hot or iced.  That in-between temperature is just icky.  But I never drank Earl Grey at work – too aromatic.  Having once shared an office with a really cranky and vocal anti-aroma person, I learned to avoid infringing on the olfactory nerves of my co-workers. 

It’s cool today and my apartment is settling into its winter chill.  I miss summer already but this is definitely tea-drinking weather.  And Earl Grey is exactly what I want.  Waiting for the water to boil, I’m reminded of a long ago afternoon and making a conversational joke about spending the afternoon in bed with my three favorite men.  I don’t remember if it was spring or fall – but definitely a transitional season and cool enough to have an afghan over me as I rested in bed. 

Being in bed in the afternoon was in itself an unusual event.  I don’t do naps and I don’t generally eat or drink in bed – I love the idea of breakfast in bed but the reality is just messy and not at all like the movies.  So I can’t imagine why I was in bed during the day while the sun was out.  The sun didn’t shine into the bedroom but the light outside the windows was at the angle of midafternoon and there was more than enough light to read by.  The sheets had an off white background with a pattern of ferns and leaves in blue – one of my favorite sets – and I had all the pillows propped up behind me to make a reading angle.  The low bedside stand under the window had a radio (usually used for an alarm clock), a red telephone, and just enough space to balance a tea mug. 

The teakettle whistles and I pour water into my mug, trying to remember what else was happening that day.  The conversation about my three favorite men was a phone conversation with a close friend – the person who would have constituted the fourth in that set if he’d been around – and was my response to his query about how I was spending the afternoon.  Earl Grey was one of the men (and the immediate connection to today) and Peter Wimsey was the second.   I don’t remember which Sayers I was reading but definitely one of that series.  The third man was the radio announcer – he had a Sunday afternoon show that several of us listened to for his commentary as much as the music.  I can’t remember his name at the moment – but I do remember it was a perfect Sunday afternoon.  And I remember being happy. 

Today isn’t quite like that.  The tinge of fall and melancholy is in the air and I’m sitting in front of a computer instead of curled up with a good book.  But Earl Grey is still here and still comforting. 

Trackback URI | Comments RSS