Put the kettle on

Before living in the UK, I imagined that a cup of tea might be consumed in the morning before work or school and then again in the late afternoon with biscuits or finger sandwiches. Because that’s what I’d seen in the movies. I had no idea big burly men in hard hats would stop doing manly things like building houses, digging holes, and hammering roofs to enjoy a cup of tea.

I’d seen construction workers on their breaks in the US. They would hang outside 7-Eleven, smoking and drinking Red Bull or a Big Gulp. Maybe a coffee. But I can’t imagine them making themselves a cup of tea. (They do ogle and cat call. Construction workers are the same the world over but I digress.)

Drinking tea in the UK is not just reserved for Afternoon Tea at swanky hotels where you’re bound to see more tourists than locals. Tea is casual and something you consume all the livelong day.

In fact, a Brit drinks on average 2.1 kg of tea each year. That’s about one of these massive bags per person.

Builders and construction workers are not the only ones stopping for a cuppa. In my office, the men drink far more tea than the women. They are always in the kitchen making a round.

Of course women enjoy a cup as well and don’t have to have theirs with cucumber sandwiches and scones. Drinking tea with English people is not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be!

Although we had tea in my house growing up, I only remember really drinking hot tea when I was ill. The only time I remember tea being served all day was at my Irish-American grandma’s house. When we’d go for a visit, she had the kettle on before we even got out of the car. (Ireland actually consumes more tea per capita than Britain, thank you Trivial Pursuit.)

Our visits centered around her kitchen table, where we laughed and laughed over many cups of tea. We would solve the world’s problems over a shared pot of tea (and it was literally a shared pot of tea. She would just add more water to the same three tea bags all day long. That’s what growing up during the Great Depression does for you.)

My grandma was disappointed when she found out Scott didn’t drink tea regularly. He just didn’t fit her idea of an Englishman. But when he’d come to visit, we’d still sit around the kitchen table while she drank tea. She would say,”Did you know in England they call condoms ‘hats’?” and look at Scott for confirmation of this so-called fact that she must have heard on late night TV. He would turn several shades of red and I’d shriek as my grandma would follow it up with, “Don’t forget your hat!”

So, you see, tea brings people together.

English people love their tea. It gives them something to do. In the mornings, they can make awkward small talk or make a cup of tea. I know what I would rather do!

In Kate Fox’s Watching the English: The Hidden Rules of English Behavior, she writes that tea can be a polite procrastination tactic. Before a business meeting, people make pleasant chitchat usually about the weather and then all find themselves fussing over tea and coffee. There is no talk of business for the first ten or 15 minutes. Fox says it’s down to them pretending this is all a nice social gathering, everyone too nervous to say, “Let’s just get down to business.”

I don’t know if that’s entirely true but I have noticed that the making of the tea is a perfect excuse for a social gathering. If you don’t know the person on the other side of the kettle, you can say things like, “It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop raining today. Nevermind – it’s good for the garden” (they love their gardens)  or the fail-proof, “There’s nothing like a good cup of tea.”

If you know the other person, making a cup of tea is the perfect opportunity to talk about your weekend, talk about your ailing health, or talk about someone behind their back. According to the UK Tea Council, 80% of office workers say they find out more about what’s going on at work over a cup of tea than any other way.

When I interned at a magazine company in London, I was terrified to do a tea round. I had never really made tea for anyone and I didn’t know all the rules. The water must be boiling hot. Water first, then milk. But some people like to have their milk first so the tea doesn’t get filmy. How much milk is too much milk? What constitutes one sugar?

Then there are the logistics of making tea. Who is in the round? Once you’ve asked the nearest four people, you notice the woman sitting by herself in the next bank of desks. Do you ask her if she wants a tea? But she’s never made you one and if you ask her, you might as well ask the other three men in the office. It’s a minefield, I tell you!

And we wonder why Starbucks is so popular.

Death by roller suitcase

I have certainly enjoyed my time off these last few months. I know I have been very fortunate to be able to take the time to figure out what I want to do and focus on things I enjoy doing. But it did get boring. And I did miss some things about working life. Like my weekly “you earned this” purchase. Spending money on whatever I wanted. The access to shops, bars, restaurants. Seeing people other than the postman, supermarket cashier and Jeremy Kyle. You get the picture. What about having a purpose, you ask? Yes, that too. I also missed having a very good reason not to do the dishes.

I did not, under any circumstances, miss the commute. Most days it isn’t so bad but other than traveling to work, when would I choose to sit in a confined space with weird strangers? Sometimes I sit there and think…what if there is a train crash? A terrorist attack? I don’t want to die with these people!

These people being the ones I see on a daily basis. There are thousands of people who take my train line into London but when you get the same train everyday, you start to familiarize yourself with the other passengers. And since I’ve been gone, some newbies have started taking the 7:46 but I still recognize a lot of them.

There’s the girl who jumps on at my station, spends 20 minutes applying makeup (and sometimes plucking) and emerges at her destination as a totally different person. There’s the suited and booted businessman who reads self-help books. This week it is Instant Confidence: The Power of Positive Self-Talk. There’s the woman with the beautiful red coat – only now it no longer buttons because of her growing bump. And there’s the nose-picker. He’s still around, unfortunately.

There are others of course. It’s always a full train. But even though I remember when the red coat lady wasn’t pregnant and I remember when the businessman wore a wedding ring, I don’t know them and I have never spoken to them. That’s just how it goes. You don’t speak. You read or listen to music or tap, tap, tap away on your laptop. And I’m fine with that.

But it’s the dog eat dog world of commuting that I hate. I dread when the train rolls into Kings Cross station and the doors open…and everyone charges onto the platform, briefcases drawn and handbags as shields. Just getting out of the station is a battle.

And that’s why this time around, I’m sticking to trains and buses. I can’t do the tube again. I tried and it was miserable and I feared for my life. I’m happy to say that my theory still holds true. Men turn into animals when they go underground – no matter if it is down to the basement to watch football or down to the Piccadilly line to trample people on their way to work.

And today it hit me. I realized why nobody talks to each other. Nobody wants to feel any sort of guilt when they knock you down with their roller suitcase on the way to the office.