Girls love tea, they really do. Every female I have ever known has had an obsessive (teetering on perverse) fascination with collecting little bags of tea and keeping said tea in a metal box. It didn’t bother me at first, only all of these tea-females have something in common, and it only recently struck me: all of these metal boxes EXCLUDED the finest tea of them all: Yorkshire Tea, yes, “The way tea used to be”. That’s not to say there wasn’t black tea contained within the smorgasbord of tea, but that all of it (which was about three bags–) was the pathetic weak kind that no tea-loving man or woman would be dead caught drinking (I never understood that saying but bear with me).

Several times I couldn’t bare this and I had to speak up. The look on the face of these females was always the same. The exact look which I had seen on my mother’s face the day I said, as a small boy, “I want to wipe my own ass now, please”.

And it ended in disaster. Bringing up the tea caddy always caused a great deal of stress, and twice friends were lost over the dispute. But I still stick to my guns: Yorkshire Tea, and other strong black teas deserve to be included in these massive assemblies of tea. In fact, they deserve their own damn caddy. If I had my way, a ruthless Tea-police force would be implemented: their job to knock on every door and check and double-check that the strict black tea laws were being adhered to. Because, you see, black tea in England is just too much of a tradition, too much of an institution to treat with such disregard. It is the life blood of this country, upon which the best in British sensibility is based upon!

Most importantly it also tastes great!

Speaking of my mother, I am attempting to sort something in way of a gift. When I was talking with her the other week she said that she would like a new running watch. Do any of you know of a place to get them?