Let's Drink a Toast - to Tea!

TODAY, let’s drink a toast to... tea! Or, to be more precise, to Charles Grey, the second Earl of Howick, who was born on this day in 1764 and after whom Earl Grey tea was named. However, although he is best known for this delicate, fragrant brew, Earl Gray deserves recognition for his other achievements, which were far more important.

A Whig politician, he became Prime Minister in 1830, serving a four-year term of office. During that time he was responsible for the introduction of the Reform Act, which gave the vote to most British men, and the abolition of slavery throughout the British Empire.

According to one story, while he was PM a member of a diplomatic mission to China saved the life of a Mandarin – who was so grateful he sent the Earl a specially scented tea. The blend was copied, became extremely popular in Britain, and came to be known as Earl Grey tea. Other legends claim it was the Mandarin’s son who was saved, and give an earlier date for the gift.
Not only is there dispute about the Earl Gray’s origin, but there is also argument about the type of tea which should be used - some people claim it is not Chinese at all, but a mix of Indian and Ceylon. However, Jacksons of Piccadilly claim that Lord Grey gave the original recipe to them, and maintain it should be made from black Chinese leaves.

What is not in doubt is the flavouring which gives this beverage its unique taste. Bergamot oil is the magical ingredient, obtained not from the English garden herb, but from a bitter citrus fruit known as the bergamot orange.

Earl Grey tea can take a little getting accustomed to, especially if you favour the kind of brew which makes the spoon stand upright. Chinese tea has a very delicate flavour, and the addition of bergamot gives it a lovely lemony, flowery kind of taste – and the fragrant aroma is quite heavenly. It smells of summer and sunshine, and conjures up pictures of tea on the lawn in a bygone era, with damask table cloths, crustless sandwiches and tiny cakes, while bees buzz among the flower borders.

If you’re feeling down, a sure-fire way to lift your spirits is to make Earl Grey (preferably with loose leaves, not tea bags), in a ‘proper’ china pot (sadly, I dropped mine, so am making do with a glass ne instead) let it brew for a few minutes, pour it out (don’t forget the tea strainer!) into a beautiful china cup, with a matching saucer… shut your eyes, take a deep breath, then open your eyes (it’s never a good idea to consume hot drinks while your eyes are closed), take a sip – and enjoy.

You can drink it as it is, with milk or, better still, with a slice of fresh lemon – and a home-made shortbread biscuit. It may sound a long-winded way of brewing a ‘cuppa’ but, believe me, Earl Gray tea is something special, and the ritual involved in making it just adds to the magic.

If you need more detailed advice, then the late Douglas Adams wrote a brilliant piece on making Earl Gray tea (aimed at visiting Americans) which you can find at http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A61345

Failing that, you could boldly go and follow the example of Captain Jean-Luc Picard in Star Trek: The Next Generation, by firmly uttering the words : “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.” You may not have a replicator at hand to dispense the required beverage, but hopefully one of your nearest and dearest may obey orders and march to the kitchen to switch the kettle on.

Anyway, what better way to celebrate the man who abolished slavery and reformed the British voting system than to raise a cup and drink a toast with the brew named after him – Earl Gray.

Cathedrals, Bookshops and Tea

CATHEDRALS, bookshops, tea and friendship illuminated my day. A friend and I went to Birmingham, where we visited both branches of Waterstones, both cathedrals (the Anglican and the Catholic) - and sat down a couple of times to rest our feet and enjoy a hot drink (coffee for her and tea for me).

Bookshops, obviously, are always a joy, especially as Tamworth doesn't possess a proper bookshop. I went intending to buy another copy of Seamus Heaney's Burial at Thebes since, much to my annoyance, I lost the copy I bought recently and desperately need a replacement as it is part of my OU course. Unfortunately neither branch had a copy, but helpful staff at the New Street store have arranged to get one sent over from another shop - so I bought an edition of Sophocles' Antigone instead.

Then we headed off for the St Philip's, the Anglican Cathedral, with its fabulous Burne-Jones windows, their glowing colours so intense that on first viewing they almost shock. The windows were donated by the artist, who was born nearby and was baptised in the church. Originally built as a parish church in the early 18th century, St Philip's didn't become a cathedral until 1905, so lacks the ancient feel of places like Lichfield or Chichester, and is quite small - it is, apparently the third smallest cathedral in England (I sometimes how statistics of this type are collected and analysed, and who carries out the work - does someone travel around the country with a tape measure checking out the size of cathedrals and historic budilings?)

Anyway, although the building is described as Baroque, which I always think of as being very decorative, it seems almost plain, despite the imposing columns, the gilding and the beautiful wrought iron altar rail. But it is a lovely, friendly place, providing an oasis of calm in the middle of a busy city, and it plays an active role in the community for as well as being a place of worship it hosts a packed programme of concerts and is also involved in a project to help the homeless.

St Chad's, Birmingham's Roman Catholic cathedral, is very different. Designed by Augustus Pugin the greatest exponent of the Gothic Revival, it is incredibly ornate. The impact of the exterior is a little lost now, with a constant stream of vehicles passing by, and modern buildings crowding in, so nothing prepared me for the blaze colour and decoration as I walked inside. Tiles, floors, doors, windows and ceiling - everything is carved and painted and gilded and patterned within an inch of its life. It could be tacky, but it is absolutely glorious, and I could only marvel at the genius of its creator, for Pugin not only designed the exterior, but also the interior, as well as the church furnishings and vestements for the clergy.

Later alterations and additions were carried out by three of sons and, later still, by his grandson, who all held true to his ideals. Even though the building is based on Medieval churches, it remains irretrievably modern - because, presumably, it has not yet had time to fade and weather - but it's worth remembering that in the Middle Ages, before the Reformation, many English churches would have been brightly painted and decorated.

We browsed in the cathedral's excellent bookshop before heading back home - where we relaxed over more tea and discussions about favourite books and poems... all in all in was a lovely and interesting day.

Sun, Sea, and Stones

IT is Wednesday, so it should be a Whinge Day, but instead I am having a Wednesday Witter about the seaside and posting some pictures taken at Bognor during our mini-break.

The town owes its regal appellation to King George V, who recuperated there following an illness. Residents were so delighted with this honour they asked his permission to add Regis (from the Latin for king -rex, regis)to its name.

Their royal visitor was less impressed and is alleged to have uttered the immortal word 'Bugger Bognor' on his deathbed!

When I was a child we holidayed in and around Bognor on several occasions, and I remember a bustling seafront, packed with deckchairs on the shingle beach, and crowds of shrieking children paddling in the sea.

But on Monday, despite the blue sky and sunshine, it had the deserted out-of-season look common to most seaside towns at this time of the year, and it seemed smaller and less prosperous than I remembered.

Most of the businesses based in brightly coloured wooden huts on the promenade had already locked up for the winter but a few were still plying their trade.

I was tempted to buy a shiny, metallic windmill, stuck into a polystyrene base sculpted into sand-dunes and painted a particularly bilious shade of yellow - but the display was so cheery and cheeky it seemed a shame to disturb it.



Instead we sat on garden chairs beside a strangely impermanent-looking cafe, and sipped scalding hot tea in paper cartons as we watched the waves break on the shore, where a small boy, undeterred by the lack of sand, set to with his plastic bucket and spade to create a stonecastle, surrounded by a traditional moat.



Back in Chichester unexpected pleasures included the beautiful rainbow light filtered through the stained glass windows of the Cathedral and reflected on walls, floors and ceilings - and the discovery of the Arundel Tomb, which inspired the Philip Larkin poem.

Here, hand in hand, lie Richard Fizalan, the 13th Earl of Arundel and his second wife Eleanor, with their dogs at their feet, just as Larkin desribed.

"Side by side, their faces blurred,
The earl and countess lie in stone,
Their proper habits vaguely shown
As jointed armour, stiffened pleat,
And that faint hint of the absurd -
The little dogs under their feet."

Close up, the white stone effigy has an almost chalky quality, with a powdery residue on the surface which softens the hard stone, and makes the couple seem more human.

On a pillar next to the tomb hangs Larkin's poem, so what better way to end this post than by quoting the final stanza.

"Time has transfigures them into
Untruth. The stone fidelity
They hardly meant has come to be
Their final blazon, and to prove
Our almost-instinct almost true:
What will survive of us is love."

Compost Tea

MY compost is rubbish. I have been nurturing it for the last year, to little or no effect.

I carefully save eggshells, tea bags, vegetable peelings, fluff from the tumble dryer, shredded paper and grass cuttings, and into the compost bin they go – but do they turn into dark brown, rich, friable soil perfect for growing seeds, cuttings and vegetables? No, they do not.

They just sit there, looking much the same as they did to start with, and smelling a little whiffy. I have added a ‘starter’. I have watered the bin to keep the contents moist. I have stopped watering in case it was too dry.

I stuck a piece of old carpet on the top to keep it warm beneath the lid, and even tried stirring it to mix everything up and aerate it - a task which required me to stand on a chair while wielding a garden fork .

But nothing seems to work.

So when I saw a copy of The Green Guide to Compost, by Rachelle Strauss (Flame Tree Publishing) in a charity shop I pounced on it with enthusiasm.

There are 256 pages all about composting. As The Daughters remarked, you would not have thought there was so much to say on the subject.

But it seems there is.

And this book explains it all, clearly and simply, with plenty of pictures. It tells you why you should compost (good for the environment, saves money), what to put in it – and what to leave out.

There are ‘recipes’ for getting the mix right, tips about layering , greens, browns, hot composting, cold composting, and advice about the different types of containers available, as well as details on the old-fashioned compost heaps that many gardeners still favour.

I particularly enjoyed the chapter on ‘How to Influence Your Compost Pile’. Would it were that easy, but so far my rotting rubbish maintains a mind of its own, and refuses to be cajoled or persuaded into what I would regard as correct behavior for a compost in the making.

For a while I wondered if the author had tried hypnotising her garden waste into submission, but careful reading revealed that I should pay more attention to micro-organisms. They need oxygen and carbon-rich materials.

There’s a useful chapter on how to tell when your compost is ready (assuming you gave the patience to wait that long), another on how to use your compost, and an excellent section on trouble-shooting when things go wrong (so I shall ignore a suggestion from the Man of the House who says a visit to the garden centre to buy ready-made products would solve all problems ).

The book also gives information about other composting methods, such as bokashi bins, which can be used to break down left-over cooked food; wormeries and special teas – for the plants, not the gardener.

It was a very informative book but whether the advice it contains will enable me to transform my rubbish heap into a bin full of wonderful soil remains to be seen.

I Want A Drink - Not A Dessert!

ONCE upon a time, when I was young, cafes provided tea with or without sugar and that was it. The same went for coffee. Black coffee was as exotic as it got.


Your drink arrived in a standard cup or, very occasionally, a glass mug, but there was no choice. You knew what you were getting and accepted what was served up.

These days all that has changed – and how!
Buying a tea or coffee calls for the kind of decision-making usually reserved for multiple choice answers in exams and, in my case, the success rate (or lack of it) is probably pretty much the same.

Advancing years, alas, have accentuated my tendency to dither when asked a question. This, coupled with the alien terminology of coffee house culture, renders me incapable of coherent thought, let alone sensible speech.

First hurdle is size. Would I like small, medium, or large? I don’t know. How big are they? To confuse me further there is regular, which appears to replace small in some outlets, while taking the place of medium in others.

If I fancy a cuppa there is a bewildering variety. Should I pick English breakfast, Earl Grey, or green? Or shall I try herbal or fruit tea?

Coffee is worse. Even the hot potato man in the town centre offers three different types, which is bad news when you don’t know your Cappuccino from your latte. Then there is Americano, espresso, mocha, ristretto or macchiata. And what about skinny, a word that should apply to people, not drinks?

I could opt for a ‘speciality’ and have coffee flavoured with syrup - ginger, cinnamon, hazelnut, caramel or vanilla, topped with marshmallows, chocolate or crunchy crumbs, all perched on inches of froth and cream.

I wouldn’t advocate a return to the tasteless brews of the past – but I would like to order a plain, simple drink without feeling like a complete idiot.



(A version of this article originally appeared in the Tamworth Herald in 2009)


After all, what’s wrong with coffee that tastes like coffee and doesn’t look like the kind of sickly dessert dished up at a children’s party?