Conor Kenny
Staff Writer
All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes.
George Orwell
There are multitudes of ways over the summer holidays to waste your time during an uneventful day. Staring numbly at the screen in front of you while the newsfeed of Facebook languorously drips by is a popular choice. Watching mindless game shows such as Pointless (a fitting name for a program if ever there was one) is an equally addictive and energy sucking pastime. Yet by far the most inane procrastination of all is surely the making and drinking of a simple cup of tea.
According to Wikipedia, the first known consumption of tea dates back to the tenth century BC in China, where it must be presumed that things were pretty dull indeed. It’s easy enough to imagine members of the Qin Dynasty sat around in a village deciding that the best possible way to kill a few minutes would be to stew some tasteless leaves in hot water, and then spend the next quarter of an hour slowly slurping down the resulting concoction. Baring in mind that biscuits apparently weren’t invented until somewhere in the middle of the First Persian Empire, those few hundred years without a hobnob to hand must have been fairly miserable.
Several truths beg the question of why we even imbibe this drink in the first place. It certainly is an acquired taste, and definitely not a beverage that children take a liking to. Instantly delicious like Coke, it is not, as is evidenced by the large proportion of people who opt to alter the taste of it with copious amounts of sugar. Why, too, is it the case that we illogically drink tea in the baking heat of summer (an admittedly rare occurrence), thinking this to be a more appropriate thirst-quencher than say, an ice-cold glass of lemonade? It should also be pointed out that the argument of a caffeine addiction akin to tea’s distant cousin, coffee, holds little sway in this debate, as many of us have been drinking the de-caff stuff for years.
Another point about this bizarre drink is that we seem to demand it everywhere we go, despite the fact that only we as individuals know what kind of tea we like. I, like many others, take the somewhat vulgar preference of leaving the teabag in the mug as I drink it, the better for the leaves to fuse with the water. And yet although every café in Ireland apparently adheres to this particular method, the result is nearly always sh*t. The milk supplied, if it isn’t in those tiny plastic cartons, is either warm or on the verge of going sour. The semi-self-prepared tea is then nothing more than bland, lukewarm, grey water.
All of this does nothing to negate the fact that tea is one of the most simple and delightful additions to everyday mundane events. It’s the perfect friend to accompany you while you read the paper, watch the television, or entertain the next-door neighbour as they complain about the offensive protrusion of your hedge into their back garden. A strong brew is the ideal kick-start to every morning, and an equally adept soother to ease you into the evening. Regrettably, some of us have gotten to the stage over the years where it becomes seemingly impossible to perform the simplest of tasks without that warm receptacle of hot golden fluid at our side. As stupid as it sounds, it was remarkably difficult indeed this year for me to attempt to write an essay or revise in the run up to the exams without numerous mugs to ease me through the hardship. There’s one next to me right now, in fact.
