August 13th, 2010

White Collar kiss

teahouse of the august moon

It's still winter here, all blustery and wet. We don't usually have winter here so it's most unsettling. I mean, I quite like the dvd weekends with hot chocolates, but I shouldn't ind an opportunity for one of our high teas in the back garden. Before the mozzies kick in (annoying pests).

I've been over indulging in tea. Big pots of tea. Though not as bad as that time I had the enormous supersized pot of tea in New York (and went wee wee wee all the way down to Battery Park). Heh, I don't think there's a cafe twixt Union Square and Battery Park I didn't have to race into in desperate need. And it's just like Italy, right, so you have to buy a drink to use the loo, thus becoming trapped in a vicious cycle...

Second only to that time in Scotland where we trampled the tweedy folk underfoot dashing into a remote pub after some desperate miles on the highway after an unwisely large pot of tea (well, it was cold).

But you don't want to hear about my teapot misadventures.
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