Next in the pointless history of me in 100 objects is this:

Tea 
I'm something of a purist when it comes to tea – always made in a warmed pot, pou r the milk in the mug first etc. I'm also pretty loyal to my beloved Yorkshire Tea.

But my Grandmother, who instilled much of this ritualistic fetish wouldn't be proud of me. She always used leaves. She didn't care about the mess when you cleaned the pot and I can still see her now, with her little tea strainer over the cup, making sure no bits got in my drink. I loved her very much, she was so kind, never spent any money on herself, she saved it all for her daughter (my Mum) and us.

I remember there was always an aura of sadness and loneliness around her. She didn't want for friends, and she lived until she was 90 largely by keeping active. Charity shops, the over 60's club, she did it all. But her husband, her Fred,dies before I was born and despite living a full life, she always missed him terribly. And when she died, ten years ago now, I missed, and still miss her.

So in honour of her, I bought this teapot to do it properly. And it does taste better, but it's not just right. My Grandmother would have ignored the new fangled contraption in favour of a proper china pot and her tea strainer. And she's right, some improvements might make things more convenient, but they don't make things better.

So I'll be buying some more leaf tea, a proper strainer and every now and then, do it properly and raise my china cup to the memory of the kindest woman I ever knew.

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