I’ve been away on holiday, to the warmer climate of Turkey… Whilst the break and the change of pace has been much appreciated I was looking forward to returning home for a much needed English Breakfast Tea :)
So… Imagine the perplexed nature of my thinking as I endeavoured to make that most traditional of drinks this morning to no avail!
I stare at the puddle just after the morning “click”,
Wanting only to quench my thirst and dampen my tongue,
Following a night of mixed unconscious randomness,
Awoken during a conversation with a purple Hedgehog.
The liquid begins to trace is winding path,
Slinking across its faux granite landscape,
Onward to the edge, succumbing to gravity,
Drip, drip, drip…
I blink once… twice…. thrice… Watching.
Wyldwood Radio adding background dramatics,
As the potential beverage, now just a puddle,
Sits on the ﬂoor, denying me my Tea.
I glance back to the source, mumbling,
A sacred curse upon the kettle,
For this morning I shall not drink,
That break of day nectar…