| Holly ( @ 2006-12-11 14:05:00 |
O Chitinous Tea
Tea is brilliant. I realise this might sound like the English immigration department's been round and given me a stern lecture on fitting in, but I promise I still miss dark chocolate tim-tams, and I don't believe in badgers. Tea, though! For a start, you can make it out of anything. Strawberry and mango! Loganberries, which I didn't know existed! Dried apricots, weeds, flowers, probably wicker baskets and old hard drives if you break them up small and boil the water for long enough.
And then there's all the exotic history: smugglers who paid local shepherds to drive sheep across the sand and eradicate tell-tale trails! Profiteers who sold tea adulterated with sheep dung, copper, and previously used leaves! Apparently used tea leaves can also clean mirrors if you "use a soft cloth to buff away the tea after cleaning", which I suspect would also be true of, eg, coffee grounds, cake batter, or mud, but on the other hand I haven't tried it so what do I know? Maybe tea can do that as well.
It even has a brilliant origin. Roses from Mohammed's blood, rightio; daffodils from Narcissus's body, yes, okay; but tea from Bodhidharma's eyelids which he cut off in fury at his failure to stay awake, and cast on the ground. And there's the decades of disapproval, as this Samuel Johnson review of a book by the charmingly-named Mr. H***** demonstrates:
The "we" doing the recommending is the United Kingdom Tea Council, and their website is so scientifically rigorous that they won't let you see it unless you click to agree that yes, it's intended for health professionals and you aren't going to sue them when you die from a tea-only diet. Once you get in, though, there's a lot of fun to be had - the personality analysis of How do you drink your tea, the games where you try to pour tea into moving cups (and are told to drink more tea to perk you up when you fail). The best part is Astro Tea, allowing you to read your future in your tea-leaves or, if you don't have any tea-leaves, in a flash fake-tea-leaves interface.
Tea is brilliant. I realise this might sound like the English immigration department's been round and given me a stern lecture on fitting in, but I promise I still miss dark chocolate tim-tams, and I don't believe in badgers. Tea, though! For a start, you can make it out of anything. Strawberry and mango! Loganberries, which I didn't know existed! Dried apricots, weeds, flowers, probably wicker baskets and old hard drives if you break them up small and boil the water for long enough.
And then there's all the exotic history: smugglers who paid local shepherds to drive sheep across the sand and eradicate tell-tale trails! Profiteers who sold tea adulterated with sheep dung, copper, and previously used leaves! Apparently used tea leaves can also clean mirrors if you "use a soft cloth to buff away the tea after cleaning", which I suspect would also be true of, eg, coffee grounds, cake batter, or mud, but on the other hand I haven't tried it so what do I know? Maybe tea can do that as well.
It even has a brilliant origin. Roses from Mohammed's blood, rightio; daffodils from Narcissus's body, yes, okay; but tea from Bodhidharma's eyelids which he cut off in fury at his failure to stay awake, and cast on the ground. And there's the decades of disapproval, as this Samuel Johnson review of a book by the charmingly-named Mr. H***** demonstrates:
He then proceeds, in the pathetick strain, to tell the ladies how, by drinking tea, they injure their health, and, what is yet more dear, their beauty.Admittedly the disapproval only applied to "real" tea, "that detestable and poisonous plant"; at around the same time, teas made from less conventional brewees were being used to promote health, and John Byng was writing
I look'd frequently out of my windows at early morn; and finding the rain to continue, did not rise till 8 o'clock. I drank snail tea for breakfast, for my chest is very sore, as every cold, or damp flies to that quarter.A couple of hundred years later, even real tea has been rehabilitated. In the UK, a recent advertising campaign showed that tea is really really healthy. It mostly accomplished this by not quite lying and interpolating "Tea!" in the middle of sentences about healthy things: "Fruit and vegetables are a good source of antioxidants and the Government recommends that we should eat 5 portions or more a day. But did you know that tea is too? We recommend 4 cups a day". (Lifting weights can be a great form of exercise. But did you know that tea has a weight too? We recommend lifting it to your mouth every two to three hours.)
The "we" doing the recommending is the United Kingdom Tea Council, and their website is so scientifically rigorous that they won't let you see it unless you click to agree that yes, it's intended for health professionals and you aren't going to sue them when you die from a tea-only diet. Once you get in, though, there's a lot of fun to be had - the personality analysis of How do you drink your tea, the games where you try to pour tea into moving cups (and are told to drink more tea to perk you up when you fail). The best part is Astro Tea, allowing you to read your future in your tea-leaves or, if you don't have any tea-leaves, in a flash fake-tea-leaves interface.
Bee (one): A single bee warns of gossip.The list is quite exhaustive, including camels (good fortune), a fern (sincerity) and a flamingo (a shy but good looking stranger will soon make an entrance into your life). A snail in your tea doesn't in fact cure your cold but instead "bids you to continue on your path slowly but surely and can also indicate a very sexually uninhibited person". A unicorn "suggests that you may have psychic powers". No wonder they make you click a disclaimer to get in! Imagine the trouble that could stem from an overconfident tea-drinker misinterpreting a postage stamp ("A postage stamp suggests you'll be sending or receiving an important letter") as a mere square ("A square means you need to think creatively. You need to think about the things around you").
Bee (more than one): A swarm of bees indicates that you are busy or foretells a social gathering.