George Orwell on Tea

A Nice Cup of Tea

By George Orwell

Evening Standard, 12 January 1946.
If you look up 'tea' in the first cookery book that comes to hand you will probably find that it is unmentioned; or at most you will find a few lines of sketchy instructions which give no ruling on several of the most important points.

This is curious, not only because tea is one of the main stays of civilization in this country, as well as in Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because the best manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes.

When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of tea, I find no fewer than eleven outstanding points. On perhaps two of them there would be pretty general agreement, but at least four others are acutely controversial. Here are my own eleven rules, every one of which I regard as golden:

• First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. China tea has virtues which are not to be despised nowadays — it is economical, and one can drink it without milk — but there is not much stimulation in it. One does not feel wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking it. Anyone who has used that comforting phrase 'a nice cup of tea' invariably means Indian tea.
• Secondly, tea should be made in small quantities — that is, in a teapot. Tea out of an urn is always tasteless, while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease and whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or earthenware. Silver or Britanniaware teapots produce inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though curiously enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad.
• Thirdly, the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is better done by placing it on the hob than by the usual method of swilling it out with hot water.
• Fourthly, the tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on every day of the week, but I maintain that one strong cup of tea is better than twenty weak ones. All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes — a fact which is recognized in the extra ration issued to old-age pensioners.
• Fifthly, the tea should be put straight into the pot. No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison the tea. In some countries teapots are fitted with little dangling baskets under the spout to catch the stray leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually one can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without ill effect, and if the tea is not loose in the pot it never infuses properly.
• Sixthly, one should take the teapot to the kettle and not the other way about. The water should be actually boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people add that one should only use water that has been freshly brought to the boil, but I have never noticed that it makes any difference.
• Seventhly, after making the tea, one should stir it, or better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing the leaves to settle.
• Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup — that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat, shallow type. The breakfast cup holds more, and with the other kind one's tea is always half cold before one has well started on it.
• Ninthly, one should pour the cream off the milk before using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives tea a sickly taste.
• Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This is one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in every family in Britain there are probably two schools of thought on the subject. The milk-first school can bring forward some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting the tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the other way round.
• Lastly, tea — unless one is drinking it in the Russian style — should be drunk without sugar. I know very well that I am in a minority here. But still, how can you call yourself a true tealover if you destroy the flavour of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put in pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water.
  
  Some people would answer that they don't like tea in itself, that they only drink it in order to be warmed and stimulated, and they need sugar to take the taste away. To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will ever want to ruin your tea by sweetening it again.

These are not the only controversial points to arise in connexion with tea drinking, but they are sufficient to show how subtilized the whole business has become. There is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your saucer, for instance?) and much might be written about the subsidiary uses of tealeaves, such as telling fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is worth paying attention to such details as warming the pot and using water that is really boiling, so as to make quite sure of wringing out of one's ration the twenty good, strong cups of that two ounces, properly handled, ought to represent.

(taken from The Collected Essays, Journalism and Letters of George Orwell, Volume 3, 1943-45, Penguin ISBN, 0-14-00-3153-7)

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An imperfect mother

For the time I teased you, 
For the times I said you couldn't,
For the times I was exasperated with you,
For the times I was frustrated with you,
For the times I hurt your feelings,
For the times I was angry with you,
For the times the wrong words came out of my mouth,
                                                           
I'm sorry I made you cry
-------------------------

For the times my hormones were unbalanced,                                     
For the times I ate for comfort,
For the times my anger turned to tears,
For the times you wouldn't eat your meals,

 I'm sorry you saw me cry
-------------------------

All the times I made you cry,
All the times I hated myself,
All the times I was sad,
All the times I felt inadequate,
All the times you shut me out,
All the times I was lonely,
All the times I was ashamed, 
All the times I felt I'd failed,
All the times I missed an old friend,
All the times I couldn't understand you,
All the times I worried about you,
All the times you were unkind,
All the times I missed my own Mum,

You didn't see me cry
----------------------------

Every day I love you
Every day I try not to cry.

-----------------------------

Why we are back at the Charter School

Our eldest daughter's educational experience has always been a bit different.  At the age of three, she went to pre-school and enjoyed two mornings a week of fun and activities which helped develop her social skills and got her used to listening to and obeying adults other than her parents.  In the first week of her second year of pre-school, at the age of four however, she told us was bored because it seemed to be a repetition of the previous year.  She transferred to the slightly more school-like pre-Kindergarten class (at another location) with her friend, and she liked that much better.

When she was five, in 1999, we moved to the Netherlands for a year where she started at the local Kleuterschool.  Unlike our local Kindergarten, this was full-time education and together with the wealth of experience associated with living abroad, it was a year of fun and adventure. By the end of that year she was almost completely bilingual, but then we had to return to America where she entered 1st Grade.  During 1st Grade she was quickly able to catch up on the little she had missed in learning to read and write in English (Kindergarten being a year of only half-days) and continued to prove herself a bright and capable student.  So far so good. 

In 2nd Grade she transferred to the elementary school.  By now, counting  pre-school, she was in her third school in four years, but as always she was up to the challenge and enjoyed three happy years there.  Her 4th Grade teacher was strict and worked the students hard, but it paid off, and she was fully prepared for Middle School.

Then there was 5th Grade at Middle School, which wasn't a happy year for her.  One teacher accused her of 'bullying' because of a mild joke she'd made at another child's expense, and of 'sexual harrassment' due to untruths told by another child who said she'd called her a lesbian.  She was ten years old.  Academically she was becoming bored with the way she was being taught and it seemed to us, always, that she could do better but with no incentive or motivation, and praise handed out by the bucketload, she learned that minimal effort was all that was needed.  This continued in 6th Grade, where again she complained that she was being re-taught material that had already been covered. 

It was during those early weeks of 6th Grade that we learned about a new charter school that had opened a few miles away, and we wondered if that school would be a better fit for her.  Despite the fact that the school had a heavy bias towards Mathematics and Science, and DD1 was - and is - more inclined towards language and literature, we thought that the streaming (American: tracking) of classes and the traditional grading system (i.e. A, B, C etc) would be better for her.  She started at the Charter school part way through 6th Grade. (This was now her fifth school.)

At first she was almost completely overwhelmed with the heavy workload.  So much more was expected of her now, not only in the quantity of work, but in that the material being taught was usually only learnt in 8th and 9th Grades.  Fortunately, she was equal to the challenge and found that slowly she became used to having lots of homework and enjoyed writing ten or twenty-page essays.  She relished the competition with her friends and time and again met the challenge of earning A's for most of her work.

This school wasn't without its problems and dramas.  Some teachers weren't up to par and some lessons were disorganised and difficult, but overall she did well there for almost four years.  During 9th grade though, she and we began to doubt that this school was really a good place for a high school experience.  It didn't seem very stable (faculty and administrators were coming and going) and it wasn't very clear as to how their high school program would develop.  Our local high school, of course, had everything printed out in a course handbook, so it was easy to see a path which students would follow through to the end of the 12th Grade.  Additionally, the charter school was weak on electives (optional 'light' enrichment subjects) and the arts, so we transferred her again to school number six.

Her sophomore year at the local high school (10th Grade) proved to be a mixture of good and bad.  I was happy to be relieved of carpool duties, but she had to leave home an hour earlier each day and getting her out of bed for a 6:45am school bus  was hard.  She had a great time socially and enjoyed several of the extra-curricular activities which this huge school had to offer.  She became involved in drama and theatre production, and took a class in the school's TV studio.  However, her academic classes were disappointing.  In her honors history class she found herself literally repeating projects she had done in 5th Grade.  She found a lot of projects involved group or partner work and instead of learning and writing papers, she was asked to draw and colour posters. 

Primarily though, the biggest letdown was in Mathematics, where she had an incompetent teacher who couldn't answer any questions not directly covered in the text book and who appeared to downgrade anyone whose answers and method of working didn't exactly match those prescribed in the book.  She became increasingly discouraged and her grades started to fall.  In the end, we reopened the debate about whether or not the charter school might have been the better choice after all.

During the long summer of 2010 we went back and forth on the subject, until at the very end of August, following discussions and meetings at the charter school, she decided that she wanted to go back.  We hope we have made the right choice, but already she seems happier, although it's only the third day.  Academically she is once again among students of similar abilities who are motivated to learn and to work hard so we hope that for her final two high school years, she will do well and be happy.

Québec - View from the River

On our third day in Québec we thought we'd drive away from the city to see what was there.  We also thought we'd have breakfast in perhaps a less expensive local establishment outside the city. We thought about driving north but ended up going east, alongside the St. Lawrence River and drove as far as Sainte Anne-de-Beaupré - some 30 miles away.


View Larger Map

It turned out that Ste. Anne-de-Beaupré is a place of pilgrimage for some catholics due to the church being reputed as a place of healing.  People also go there to visit the Cyclorama of Jerusalem.  We visited neither the church nor the Cyclorama, but turned around, stopped at Tim Horten's for coffee and donuts and returned to the city.  I can't help thinking that we missed an opportunity to do something a bit different by not going into the church or the Cyclorama, but I guess neither of us thought it worthwhile at the time.  It was only when we returned to our hotel to look up information that we learned what it was all about.

The highlight for us on that particular day was to be our 4-hour evening cruise on the St. Lawrence River to see fireworks over the Montmorency Falls.  The day was overcast and very humid with threatening rainstorms in the afternoon and evening.  We had pre-paid for our cruise tickets so off we went downtown on the bus armed with sweaters, umbrellas and (in my case) a rain jacket.  We picked up our tickets, at the same time enquiring about the predicted 60mph gusts on the river.  We were told that nothing short of a tsunami would cause the cruise to be cancelled.  I wasn't sure how bad it could be, but having crossed the English Channel a few times in choppy weather I wasn't too excited about being tossed around on a pleasure boat on that vast river.

Anyway, we went for an early dinner (because we hadn't booked the dinner cruise) and arrived at the boat about 45 minutes before it set sail.  I should mention at this point that it had been raining on and off for a while so that when we got on board, everything was wet, there were few places to sit under cover.  Since we were actually there to view fireworks, we set up on the top deck at the front - potentially the windiest, chilliest, wettest place but we decided to take a chance.  We barricaded ourselves behind umbrellas while it rained and hoped things would improve!

Taken on my mobile phone when the rain stopped

I had been looking forward to this cruise because it would afford an opportunity to see Québec from the river by night.  I'd seen it in photos but wanted to see it for myself.  I'm a sucker for 'views'  bright lights and fireworks so if it hadn't been for concerns about the weather I'd have been quite excited about it.

View of the Château Frotenac from the quayside.

 As it turned out, we were very fortunate.  The rain stopped and the clouds began to clear and while not a perfect starlit night, we ended up having a lovely evening.

The Château Frontenac from the river at dusk.

Wet deck after the rain stopped.

None of my fireworks photos are worth publishing and none of the night views of the scenery came out as well as I hoped, but we had such a nice time, it doesn't really matter.  At one point, members of the crew brought round free food - a box containing a ham baguette sandwich, a bag of chips (crisps) and salad.  We didn't know there would be food, but we devoured it despite having already had dinner!

Night view of old Quebec

Another feature of the cruise that we hadn't expected was the party atmosphere and from our birdseye view of the deck below we enjoyed the music and dancing as much as those who were participating.

The crew leading a performance of "YMCA"

It was fun singing along to all the old and new songs - and even a French one which I knew but can't for the life of me remember where from!  All in all it was a lovely evening and not at all spoilt by the rain or 60mph gusts of wind.

End of Day Three.

Quebéc - Friendly New France

So having done a recce the night before and found where the route of the $3 Navette (shuttle) bus passed close to our hotel, we went out to catch the 10:04 bus into the old city. Unfortunately, it having been many a long year since we rode on a public bus, we lacked the necessary coinage to deposit into the cash receptacle. To our utter astonishment, the driver, upon seeing our $20 bill and lack of coinage said, in English "No no, it's OK, you can have it.  It's a gift." and handed us two FREE bus tickets!  Bravo, that man! I say.  What a city! I can't imagine any bus driver being that kind anywhere else in the world.  What a wonderful warm feeling that gave us as we entered the old city once more. 

The bus dropped us at the foot of the cliff at the Basse Ville (Lower Town) and we walked slowly up the hill to the meeting place for the Voir Québec walk we had booked.  The sun was bright with the temperature in the 80s (F), but there being no humidity I felt up to the two-hour tour which we were about to take.  (Normally I wimp out after five minutes with the humidity levels we get in Massachusetts.)

I'm not going to go through the details of the walk, nor repeat the history because I can't remember most of it.  What I will do, though, is post captioned photographs that I took along the way. Don't forget to click on the pictures and magnify them for a super-duper close-up view!

Le Promenade des Gouverneurs

English style architecture

French style architecture

The French Consulate

Restaurant Aux Anciens Canadiennes - the part on the right is the oldest building in the city, dating back to the 1600s.  The horses and carriages carrying tourists are a daily sight in the city.

Rue du Parloir, leading to the Ursulines Museum

Entry to the Seminary, now used for the architecture faculty of the university.

Seminary courtyard

The once disreputable, now desirable street behind Rue St. Paul, where water used to flow and the buildings were accessed by stairs and bridges.

To help preserve the area's history, some apparently connected buildings are mere facades.

Sous le Fort, looking towards the Funicular

Petit Champlain

This is where our tour ended, after nearly two and a half hours of walking up and down hills.  Soon after we had a late lunch in a nice restaurant called Sous-le-Fort.

Baguette with duck, camembert cheese, pearl onion marmalade 'frites' and salad with a locally produced  alcoholic beverage made with pears to wash it down. Mmm!

End of Day Two

Québec - Speaking French in Canada

Last week, DH and I had the opportunity to spend a rare few days alone together, so after dropping the kids off at their residential summer camp, we took to the road and headed north for Québec.

 Quebec's most impressive hotel, and iconic landmark, le Château Frontenac.

The Château being somewhat out of our price range, we stayed in a hotel in the Sainte-Foy district of greater Québec and for $89 US per night, had a comfortable, spacious room on the ground floor in a quiet part of the hotel.  Free internet, convenient parking and a heated outdoor pool made it all the more pleasant. We arrived late Monday afternoon and after checking in, we drove from Sainte-Foy to Vieux Québec. 

I really had no idea of what to expect, although I'd seen some photos, and Googled a street-view of the area, but it was still somewhat unknown.  We managed to find a parking space nearby a restaurant-pub, "le D'Orsay", where we had dinner.  We got a table near an open window so the evening breeze came in together with the sounds of the street entertainers and the crowds of people watching them across the way.

After a delicious meal we walked up the rue du trésor, otherwise known as "artists' alley", where I lusted over the etchings, watercolours, acrylics and oils that were on sale. Many of them showed the sights of old Québec, particularly depicting them across the four seasons.

The architecture of the old city lends itself to some wonderful artistic renderings and all the works reflected the colours of the city at its vibrant best.

Alongside the Anglican church at the top of the alley there were more artists and sales of pottery, jewellery and sculptures.  We then walked towards the Château and the statue of Samuel de Champlain and past the crowds watching the entertainment to get a view of the St. Lawrence River.

We walked along the "Promenade des Gouverneurs", or Governors Walk, which is a boardwalk along the top of the cliff with expansive views of the river.

End of Day One. 

Back to my homeland (part 6-final)

Days 1-4
Days 5-8
Day 9  Crowland
Day 9  Croyland Abbey
Day 9  Thorney

This seems to be a good point to show just how hectic our holiday really was.

Between June 6th and 23rd, I:

• Drove through or visited 21 counties of England and Wales
• Visited and/or met up with 16 friends
• Spent time with 9 cousins (three 'new' ones)
• Slept in 9 different beds
• Visited 8 graveyards
• Explored 3 churches
• Had 4 Bangers & Mash dinners,
• 3 cream teas (scones, strawberry jam with clotted cream & a pot of tea)
• and Scampi and Chips twice!
• PLUS I got addicted to Big Brother and now have to check online for updates!

So, on to Day 10: We started the day with a long morning drive from Peterborough to Sussex.  This was a day for people-visiting. Our first destination was to the home of a newly discovered cousin, and her niece (also a cousin).  they are direct descendants of the Thomas Sutton I mentioned yesterday so they were especially interested in hearing we'd learned more about their ancestor.

After a lovely afternoon, we visited friends of my sister's who have recently moved to Sussex.  We all went out to dinner and stayed with them overnight.

Day 11: Eastbourne. Talk about a quick tour.  I think we ended up with about an hour running around Eastbourne!  I've never been there before, despite spending most of the first 35 years of my life living within a couple of hours' drive of that town.  I'm sure to return to explore it properly though, because my sister and her husband are buying a new home nearby.

I photographed this pub because although one takes these things for granted when you live with them all your life, I was suddenly struck by the age of this establishment.  (Click on the pictures for a closer look and then use your back button to return to the blog.)

Yes. That's right.  The sign indicates that the pub has been here since 1160.  What we see of the building doesn't look that old, but no doubt parts of it are.

We wanted to look at St Mary's church, being in the older part of Eastbourne, on the offchance that we'd find Thomas Sutton's family in evidence...

... but as you see, gravestones were sparse.  In fact most of them were 'planted' around the edges with much of the writing on them hidden.

The few that we could read were of no help to us, but I took advantage of the opportunity to photograph the view over the rooftops.

After a quick drive around the town and a visit to the bungalow which will soon be my sister's home, I went off to have afternoon tea with some old friends, and then on to my old stomping grounds in Kent to have dinner with two more old friends.  A busy day indeed.

Day 12: After those two busy days of visiting people, I had a slightly more leisurely morning with my friend walking around Rochester.  I grew up a few miles from Rochester and so it's a familiar place.  There are certain things I still like to photograph every time I'm there, but each time I notice something different.

This is a very ordinary view of Rochester High Street, lined with a mixture of buildings old, new and in-between. It's mostly pedestrianised so there is very little traffic.

This is Eastgate House, one of my favourite buildings.  I like the timber and the intricate red brickwork.  Until this visit I had never really noticed the age of the building which dates from the 16th century.

Here's another.  I've always liked the clock which sticks out over the road.  One reason I like it is the inscription below it.

Who could forget the name of Sir Cloudsley Shovel?

Nearby, a glance up a narrow street gives the passerby a view of the Norman keep known as Rochester Castle.  The castle was built in the reign of William the conqueror, almost 1000 years ago.

This is the 17th century Guildhall.

In keeping with the city's proximity to the River Medway and the Royal Dockyard, the weather vane on the cupola is in the form of a ship.

 Outside the Guildhall there is an early Victorian pillar box.  Usually they are red, but the early ones were green, and this one has been painted in its original livery.

After leaving Rochester, I returned to London to spend part of the weekend with my cousin. 

Day13: From this point on it's more about the people than the places.  This was a family reunion/celebration day in Winchester - no scenic photos, no graveyards and no architectural wonders.  Mind you, it was a wonder that some members survived the day's events given the amount of Shiraz consumed, but it was very entertaining and an excellent day all round. 

Days 14-16: During my last few days in England I managed to squeeze in four more visits with different friends, some last-minute shopping, and - finally - my packing.  My last evening was spent dining with friends in Whitstable, and a short walk to the beach got me my only glimpse of the sea, where I took this final photograph.

Lovely.  Thanks for looking - I've enjoyed sharing these with the world.  :)