Pure distilled poison


Dearest blog reader your intrepid blog writer almost did himself in this morning, so forgive me if I seem a little shaken, if not stirred.

My morning ritual at work is well entrenched and includes a cup of coffee. I’m still not sure if I’m as addicted to caffeine as I make out but I do know a nice hot cup of coffee seems to settle my brain for another day at the coalface. It’s gotten to the point where I’m almost on auto-pilot until that first glorious mouthful of not quite scalding but hot-enough-to-feel-as-it-goes-down coffee hits the mark.

This morning was no different, I popped some coins in the meter, turned on the PC, fired up Outlook to let it start downloading the usual 200-odd emails of nonsense that people keep sending me, and headed to the kitchen area.

I retrieve my mug (the superman one), fill the kettle and set it to boil, make some tea, take my mug back to my desk, open up the first of many emails and take big long sup of… ACK!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS VILENESS THAT HAS ENTERED MY MOUTH!!!! THE DEVIL IS AT HAND, FLEE, FLEEEEE!!!!

Eagle-eyed readers will note that for no good reason, and I really mean for no reason of any merit that has ever been found on this entire planet, nay for any reason AT ALL in the ENTIRE COSMOS EVER!, I managed to not notice that I’d made myself a cup of tea.

Now I’m quite adept at making cups of tea, as my good wife will attest, but frankly I’d rather snort lumpy mud than drink the stuff.

Suffice to say that my entire morning routine was shaken to the foundations and it’s just as well the cleaners came along as I was THIS close to throwing a tantrum at myself before leaping off the roof in disgust.

Instead I went and made myself a cup of coffee. However I remain troubled, tea has no place in my mouth and, if I’m honest, I barely tolerate having any in the house at all.

What the hell is the appeal anyway?

I’m not taking anything posh here, no Lapdance Souffle or Earl Grit or anything, and certainly none of those would-be tea pretenders that are mango and guava flavoured, or lime and essence of coconut (sounds more like a bloody cocktail if you ask me), and certainly not anything advertised by Mr. Stephen of Fry. No, I’m talking Tetley teabag tea, or that one made by PG Woodhouse, you know, the one the monkeys like, the cheap stuff that is guzzled by the bajillion gallonfuls every day.

It’s the weirdest beverage, caught between wanting to be grown up (i.e. actually have a distinct flavour… like, say, snot) and trying to be palatable for all tastes and ending up timid and slightly sweet. It truly is the kiddy schizophrenics beverage of choice.

Hey, if you disagree with me, ask yourself this; Do you know someone who drinks “baby tea”? I bet you do.

And have you ever heard anyone ask for “baby coffee”? No, I thought not.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m an open-minded individual and I’m entirely willing to be convinced that, in actual fact, tea is something consumed by sensible adults. Goodness knows that there is plenty of evidence surrounding this argument but despite that I remain unconvinced.

Sometimes, in my darkest moments I wonder if it’s some weird kind of conspiracy, or worse, a fraternity/sorority of tea drinkers, a secret cabal of which I’m no part. In fact, now that I come to think of it that is the only valid excuse for so many intelligent people, people I trust and respect, to drink tea.

So, go one then, what’s the secret handshake?

Written By

Long time blogger, Father of Jack, geek of many things, random photographer and writer of nonsense.

Doing my best to find a balance.

More From Author


I end up having about one cup of tea a year, usually made for me by someone else who has no idea how much I dislike the stuff. (Usually when I’m round at the out-laws, or something)

That one cup per year is enough to remind me how much I dislike it.

Then again, I also cut out coffee a long time ago, but that’s because I was getting through about three filter-jugs a day of stuff that was strong enough to dissolve a spoon. And drunk black, with sugar.

So it was probably for the best that I cut it out…

Tea is better for you than coffee, full stop.
There endeth my tea chest.

But, what the hell were you thinking about while making this tea-not-coffee? Must have been damn good…

BW – As my good wife will attest, my memory doesn’t stretch that far (I wish I was joking).

Tom – I take my coffee with a splash of milk and one sugar/sweetener. Most of the time. Occasionally black.

rr – great video, looks like my kind of place.

Lyle – I’m not quite at your spectacular levels of caffeine, blimey!

BW – “Tea is better for you than Coffee”

If you’re talking Green Tea, perhaps but otherwise, I’d put my money on coffee being overall better for you.

It sounds as though you’ve had a bad tea experience in your formative years to elicit such a violent response.

That is a nice way of saying that there is something wrong with you.

Wife! says:

Sorry, I was told to leave a note to say how, although Gordon does not drink tea, he does make a good cuppa!

It used to be that I did all the house stuff – my choice mind. Payment was a cup of tea once I sat on my arse.

Now as G pitches in more my tea intake has gone down. I don’t know which is worse no tea or watching Gordon trying to hang up washing! Is it me or are all men hopeless at this task?

Anyway the point was meant to be that he makes a good cuppa! ๐Ÿ™‚

Louise – I’ve been thinking about doing a series of blog entries on the art of pegging out laundry. T-shirts do not get pegged out by the shoulders!!

I typically drink black, no sugar coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon. I like both good coffee and good tea. But then, I’ll consume anything that promises caffeine.

I ran out of coffee the other day, so thought I would give the tea stuff another try. Drinkable, but not for me. Bring on the coffee.

It’s tea with milk that is the problem. Tea, black, no sugar – now that’s the stuff. You can actually taste the tea and not cow lactations.

Try it. You might be surprised. And use good quality tea, really boiling water and don’t let it steep for too long.

And yes, I was the one who brought both a tin of Earl Grey leaf tea to the marriage as well as the filter coffee machine. What did my lovely wife bring? Vodka, lime and soda. You see? – a match made in heaven.

Tea and coffee are both best drunk black and sugarless. Baby coffee is weak and milky and yes, I know people who drink it. When I was a little girl, our Dutch au pair told me that tea with milk is called ‘baby tea’ in Holland – I promptly gave up milk.

I like Lapsang though. Smoky, like Laphroaig.

Hah! I’m sipping one of them fancy teas as I write this. I forget the name, the teabags all go in the jar together, but anyway it’s weak as piss, even after three minutes stewing. Still, it’s hot and wet which is all that counts.

I prefer both my tea and coffee to be strong, but I’ll take either of them with or without milk and sugar. Tea at work is dreadful, so I always have coffee there and nearly always have coffee at home.

Do I win a prize for the most boring comment ever?

Here from Scottish Roundup.

Comments are closed.