Minnie’s Musings

Tea. Or rather mugs. They are an issue.

Particularly across the Channel.

This morning – as promised – I shall turn my attention to the size of the European cup.

It just won’t do. Teeny, weeny, two sips and it’s gone territory.

So I have taken to making myself two cups in the hope that I can down both without His Nibs pinching one as he did yesterday.

Best Beloved is taking his from a plastic beaker, smacking his lips and pronouncing it “camping tea” (a throwback to the days when the only way to have a family holiday with three sproglettes was to cart one’s accommodation with one).

I am reminded of a training course a friend of mine and I did at the girls grammar up the road. A beautiful spread of sandwiches, cakes and fruit was only marred by the provision of those ghastly institutional off white (ie grey) cups and saucers that barely hold a sip.

This is and was simply not good enough for teachers at a twilight session (an open invitation to go to sleep, if you ask me).

Anyway we stacked one cup and saucer on top of the other, one forming a heat retaining lid. Genius! I hear you gasp in admiration. Of course, to match the quantity of tea in your average household mug, a third layer would have been necessary but unstable so we were content with a tepid refill at half time.

I am also reminded of a particularly challenging expedition to San Sebastián in Spain with our youngest. We arrived at the local youth hostel (up a precipitous winding road to a stunning view over the city and bay) to discover zero catering facilities and an extortionate cafe. This was near the end of our trip so funds were short.

We went back down to the city in a foul mood. No I hadn’t checked when I booked. Why would I? Youth hostels are supposed to allow you to cook for yourself. Arghhhhh!

Anyway a great deal of stomping around the city centre, muttering and sniping at each other ensued. There was nothing for it. We were in crisis. Youngest was contemplating how she could get back to Blighty should her parents kill each other.

Then we passed a shop with the sort of random household goods in the window that one just knows will be a treasure trove of useful items…

I emerged triumphant not five minutes later with a tiny kettle, two proper mugs and some plastic cutlery. Peace was restored. Hearts entwined over the prospect of a proper cuppa and all was forgiven.

On our return to Blighty, I promised myself that I would bring this set with us on every cross Channel expedition and carefully packed it away for future use.

Where I packed it remains a mystery, solved precisely once since. C’est la vie.