Friday October 12th 2007

I've a few spare minutes, so I thought I'd do a quick blog! I'm doing a night shift tonight, so I had a lie in this morning - it's been a quiet day, and the weather seems to suit it, heavy cloud, not a trace of a ray of sunshine. So unlike yesterday, which was just gorgeous. I know every one's going around arguing what is or is not an Indian Summer, but frankly yesterday qualified for me. And needless to say, I was stuck in work, and the day I have free, its not exactly nasty weather, but it's nothing to write home about.
I'm just back from the Post Office. These strikes are ruinous for those of us trying to make a bit of extra by selling the odd thing through Ebay. So having sold two bagcharms, I thought I'd best run off to the Post Office and get them away asap. I stopped off in the bakery on the way home and bought a lovely looking white split tin - yep, I know it should have been wholemeal, etc etc, but who could resist a lovely home-baked looking split tin? It was like a blast out of childhood! I'll be making some nice sandwiches to take with me to work tonight - tuna mayo I think. A tuna mayo sandwich warms the cockles of your heart at say two o'clock in the morning. I just had the crust with some peanut butter - yep, I've got quite childish tastes in food at times. When I was a small child coming home from school, I used to rush in and cut myself a large chunk of bread, and often just eat it without any other accompaniment - I didn't consciously think about this when I came in, but I made myself a nice cup of tea and peanut buttered crust without thinking about it. In fact, I do this more or less at around this time every day. It's part of the routine of my life - tea. Doesn't everyone? In this country at least, you come in from work, school, college - shopping, wherever, and you rush to the kitchen to make tea. Tea is such a huge meal in the British way of life. There's this kid in Bath who makes video's for U Tube or something like that, and who's had millions of hits - he made it to the news a few weeks back and they showed a clip of what it is every one's clicking on, and there's this scrawny 15 year old boy, making tea with teabag and mug in front of him. I thought it was rather comforting, plus ca change and all that. Whatever it is he's doing, and whatever media it is he's using to do it, he's a half-grown kid, and he's making and talking about tea. At the end of the day, nothing really changes.
The height of tea though, as far as I'm concerned, is family tea on a Saturday in front of the football scores with the prospect of Dr Who coming up. I can't tell you how many years - real time years, I will have spent in my life indulging in this activity. When I was young, it was bought to us - we were sitting on the floor, Dad was hurrumphing and maintaining a pretty constant stream of criticism from his chair, whether it was the football results, the quality of the tv he was watching or the general unsatisfactoriness of his family, there had to be something to criticise - and the tea tray would be brought in by Mum. The same silvery tea pot still sits in her cupboard, a bit more battered now, but we still use it to this day. Back then we had green Derby cups and saucers, and on Saturdays there would be cake of some sort. Usually a Cadbury's chocolate cake which she would cut up and parcel out to each of us. I can almost still hear the sound of the reading of the results - about the same time the curtains would be closed and lights switched on against the gloom of a real autumn evening. It would be warm and cosy, and we would all be looking forward to Doctor Who - real Doctor Who, not the travesty that's passing under that name now! Patrick Troughton or Jon Pertwee, darlecs - do you know, I have no idea how to spell that, darlik, darlek - ah, yes, darlek I think, no still doesn't look right. Whatever. They were frightening! And yes, Jo and I really did have to go and hide behind the sofa sometimes - it's always talked about as a joke, but it was real alright. If there was enough tea in the pot, you'd get a second cup, and nine times out of ten, someone would top the pot up, so maybe even a third. Then when Doctor Who was finished, and the news came on, it was all gone for another week, the tray and remains would be carried away, and the family would break up - each to their own tasks. Mum to make supper, Nick off to who knew were, but I think probably to get ready to go out that night. Dad would disappear to, and Jo and I would probably be sent to lay the table for dinner.
Ah well, I must get moving myself to make some supper to eat before I trek off to work - get my backpack ready for the night. I need stuff like jumpers and food for the night. I dare say I'll be blogging again over the weekend.