The Saucer

The longer I move around this four-score years and whatever which I am allotted, the more I appreciate the odd little episode that can, if you wish, be dismissed as crazy and childish. But I would bet a great deal that you have such moments too, if you wanted to admit them.

I like a cup of tea, especially a good cup of tea, preferably with a little milk and, although I feel more and more guilty about it, a little sugar. Well, the other day I made one. I was at home. There was nobody else around. And when I made the tea I somehow knew that it was a very good cup. Then I suddenly felt really thirsty. I wasn’t interested in sipping this tea. I wanted to take it down in a great luxurious draught. But, you see, I couldn’t because it was fresh and hot. On the other hand, putting more milk into it would destroy the very quality that was making it a first-class cup of tea.

I was overcome by a terrible temptation. The moment that feeling came on, all sorts of childhood voices began to shout out, “No! you just don’t do that!” I looked around. The dog was watching me. Through its sad eyes all the parents and teachers and aunts and uncles of my past looked in sorrow. I steeled myself. I took the cup, poured the magnificent tea into the saucer, and drank and drank and drank. Yea, did I drink even a second saucer, for by this time I was quite given over to being a sinner. Believe me, it was magnificent. Try it. Actually, it is the way they drank tea when Walter Raleigh first brought it home to England. All the best people did it. Who knows, if enough of us do it again, maybe all the best people will do it again. Terrible thought. I know I won’t do it again for years, but it was very, very good.

PS: Since I wrote this several years ago, you may be glad to hear I have given up sugar. Feel less sinful! Perhaps I’m older and wiser - alas, I suspect just older!