Behind the scenes 2 - TEA

Last week, it's been final proofs, final final proofs, and final final final proofs. No, these are not official terms. The version numbers are hard to read. I think the eyes need an old eye test. I find myself pinching the pages of books sometimes, trying to get make the font bigger. But don't tell. Anyway, who fancies the optician in these strange times? It's certainly something I have put off at least three times in the last three months. But this week's antics may inspire me to reconsider. Or perhaps my myopia was not to blame for this one... 
Rewind to Saturday. I am putting the finishing touches to some emails, and still riding the wave of having three bookshops on board to sell our charity book 'Lights on the Horizon' for us. 

I am thirsty. The drink of choice is, of course, tea, not water. So, off I go to make a cup of tea.

I fill up the kettle. While I'm filling it up, with the other hand, I open the dishwasher and I start emptying out some mugs. Then realise that the water levels in the kettle are higher than my 'boil only what you need' mantra. I pour some into the roses. They need some watering anyway. And pruning. And some general TLC which I sadly don't have the green fingers to administer. They may not make it. I put a teabag in my mug. Then remember that I forgot to fill up the dogs' water. I get the dog dish out of the utility room. And realise that the washing machine has finished spinning. I empty the washing machine, and decide to fill it up again with this morning's stripped bedclothes, and switch it on. I open the window and go back into the kitchen. 'Make a U-turn', says the SatNav in my head. I return to the utility room for the forgotten dog dish. I eye the overflowing ironing bundle but think it's wiser to leave it. Must not interfere with such a carefully constructed dome. Anyway, 'Niamh' + 'irons' are not words you will often find in the same sentence. Unless, of course, you're talking about Jeremy. But that's another story which I will tell some other time. I go outside with the dog dish. The dogs are jumping around me. I adjust their blankets and spend five minutes rubbing their heads and letting them jump all over me, delighted at how excited they are to see me. Then realise it's not me they want, but their breakfast. I grab their dishes and go inside to fill them up. I'm really thirsty now and regret having gone outside in bare arms which sport three new scratches. I barely get the badly trained Bichon-JRT-crosses to sit and they wolf (dog?) down their food. I remember that I was making tea. I go back inside, and check my email while the kettle is boiling up again. I reply to the project team. Someone once said one should only boil the kettle once, for a fuller flavour. Impossible when you have dogs, and a house and you're working from home. I put a teabag in my mug and start adding the water. Problem is, there was already a teabag in waiting. 

Oh well. It will be an extra strong cuppa this time. It's probably exactly what I need.

Fast forward two days. The girls are in school, the floor hoovered and mopped, email has been checked and yes, the dogs are fed. I, and my arms, have learnt a valuable lesson. Today, nothing is going to distract me from enjoying my perfect cup of tea. Yes, I say this every morning. So far, I have a 50% success rate. The kettle is boiled, the mug washed and pre-warmed, the (singular) tea bag thrown in, and the boiling water administered. And still I don't realise my mistake. I think my mind is so far inside my head these days that I can safely say this is the first time this has ever happened.

We all have our favourite mugs. And mine certainly doesn't have a 'K' on it.

I actually laugh out loud and address me with my new name: 'Kiamh'!

I honestly have no idea how I did it. I have a big mug which I got from one of my really lovely friends, and I rediscovered it during lockdown. It is chipped and blue and just the perfect size for an extended cup of Barry's goodness. It's still in the dishwasher. I decide that it can stay there as I am about to go on a zoom call. 

So, I drink my first cup of tea of the day out of the wrong mug and somehow, I survive.

Possibly, because I switched off the camera. 
Because of the upside-down-ness of the last few days, I decide to bake. Baking is always an excellent way of making sense of the world. And, failing that, eating the only sensible thing left in the world: Cake. So, yesterday, I decided to try out an apple cake recipe saved (probably to the wrong folder) from Dunowen House, who has been posting CakeMonday recipes since the decline of a new age (also known as COVID). Thank you Kela, I can confirm it was delicious. Here are the results. For once, it was baked in the correct oven, at the correct temperature, in the correct oven dish. I've decided I'm a Hobbit and I'm having elevenses. Happy Wednesday.!

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