I’m turning into my mother.
I picked up a packet of loose-leaf tea by mistake at the supermarket a couple of weeks ago, and rather than go through the rigamarole of exchanging, I have started having a pot of tea every couple of days.
Mum and Dad would start their day with a pot of tea with their breakfast. It’s a ritual they had within their families in Ireland. When I would stay with my aunt when over there, there was always a pot of tea at breakfast time, to accompany the Ulster fry of bacon, eggs, and an assortment of fried breads.
I’m not there yet, but I’m warming to the idea- of the tea, not the daily Ulster fry (I like my arteries unclogged!). I love the ritual of warming the pot, and letting the tea draw, while I get out a tea cup and saucer. Rather than gulping it down on the run, it’s nice to sit down and savour the delicate flavours; in fact it’s a great time to savour the early morning stillness and the promise of the day.
My mum also wakes up early for a cigarette, something which I have never done. My addictive personality leans more toward chocolate and endless games of computer solitaire 🙂
One thing she has passed on to me is a love of lipstick. Mum has always maintained a woman is not quite fully dressed without lipstick, and will not leave the house without it carefully applied. In every handbag I use regularly, I have a lipstick, just in case. They’re all pretty much the same shade, a deep red.
I find it very hard not to buy a lipstick when Avon comes calling, and I am always on the search for the perfect shade. An elusive quest, and one which I intend on pursuing for many years to come. It’s up there with the quests for the perfect hot chocolate, the perfect Gin and Tonic, and the perfect bra (the balance between comfort, fit and looking incredibly hot).