There's something satisfying about arriving in the tea shop just as the brewing timer goes off, meaning you get your cup of Moroccan Black straight from the teapot.
Even more pleasing is the discovery that the folk at my local tea shop, despite a frantic morning busy patch and thermos dispensers, brew the tea in a Brown Betty first.
I wish I worked downtown where there are cute tea shops for the working masses, instead of souless tourist-strewn midtown where there is nothing but starbuckses (good for coffee, not tea). I want my tea. *snif*
Well I was wrong, too. It wasn't Moroccan Black at all, but Welsh Breakfast.
Not rubbing it in or anything.
But just think, Krissa! You could be feeling sad because Stuart is still looking for a job after all this time. Instead you're feeling sad because *his* job location offers a superior beverage selection to yours. I mean, dude, isn't that the best thing to feel sad about, like, ever?
I think it's because we don't have a dishwasher.
If we did, we'd squabble over which way up the cutlery goes.
I thought I had established, it's shaft side down
Er... what's a Brown Betty?
Despite not actually describing what one is, the Two Chaps Talking definition of 'Breakfast' from their excellent 'A Gentleman's English Dictionary and Usage', includes enough contextual information that you can probably figure it out.