Honey and Lemon is not Tea

The fountain pen scrawl
My reading of the text

It’s cold here in Santos, Brazil, now, in June. Not cold but the standards I grew up in, in England, or Toronto, Canada, where in 2014 Artur was born and I experienced cold on a new level. But everything is relative and waking up at 4.19AM in 18゚C is/was unpleasant. It feels so much colder than that and I really don’t understand it.

I don’t understand much at all. This isn’t some kind of introduction to a kind of stand-up routine, or some falsely-modest attempt at self-deprecation. I just don’t understand much.

For reasons that I cannot begin to imagine as I lay in bed considering how cold it was and how I know it’s not really cold but it feels like it is, so it obviously is cold, my half-asleep mind started to go through all the things I don’t understand about kettles and tea.

I have a feeling where this came from. The other day I was messaging a friend about confusion and how it builds up ‘like limescale in a kettle over the years.’ So, it’s easy to imagine that my meandering imaginings about kettles in the dark hours were related to that. I mean, I don’t even drink tea these days and haven’t had an electric kettle that furs up because of hard water for about 30 years.

I was half-dreaming about how I don’t know anything about electricity or how it heats an element in a kettle or how an automatic electric cattle turns itself off. Then I started to think about tea.

It was then that I realized there are people in the world who will put honey and lemon juice in a cup or mug and pour hot water on it and call it ‘tea.’

It’s hardly a surprise that I understand so little when so many things make no sense at all.  


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