Cream tea

Another thing that makes this country great: cream tea.
Anything to do with tea really, the Brits excel at.
But cream tea -- tea served with scones, cream and jam -- is special.
Even at Sainsbury's, the local grocery store, cafe.
Even when it's the last one they've got there, all wrapped tight in clear plastic.
Which is kinda gross.
But it's still good.
Certainly preferable to anything they make with coffee here. Which they're not very good at. (Wrong temperature, too much milk, coffee too weak. I could go on.)
Back to tea.
I've told you about its healing powers here, how it's trotted out as a remedy to everything that ails you.
How where I work, people make it for each other by the mugful, every day, several times a day.
I'm really starting to feel guilty about that.
But I never want it myself. So I always pass.
It's a genetic thing.
You either want tea or coffee.
I want coffee.
Like an Italian.
Little powerful shots of it.
Throughout the day.
They just do not know how to do that here.
Anyway, do like the odd cream tea, though, must say.
So many cute little places, grand hotels, or everywhere in between, do it here.
And it always feels like an occasion. Even at Sainsbury's cafe, surrounded by a pack of suburban housewives.
Scones, sliced in half, with raspberry jam spread on top and a big dollop of cream as punctuation.
What could be wrong with that?
With a nice cup of tea.
With a friend.
A chat.
Of an English afternoon.
Lovely.