Smarter than Smokie

Regular readers will know that I am travelling at the moment.

Yesterday, Lady Devotea and I celebrated 25 years of marriage. We met when I was 19, we’ve been inseparable ever since. We moved in together a few weeks after that, and we married almost exactly two years later.

And yesterday was a remarkable day.

Lest the aforementioned regular readers-tea geeks all- get excited about the possibility that the day was remarkable for tea reasons, let me say it wasn’t! My tea day consisted of 4 cups of Raming Organic with Jasmine (see my previous blog for details of that) and several cups of overstewed Lipton Gold Blend from teabags from a four star resort and a five star hotel – of course, that’s the standard way that hotels across the globe insult their paying guests on a daily basis.

So, 27 years ago I invited Lady Devotea for a coffee (really!) and discovered that for people with such diverging backgrounds we had many similar thoughts so I cunningly joined her band as a bass player and as a result,  57% of my life so far has revolved around her and what we’ve done together, such as raised two young men and drunk more tea than, say Finland.

Let me divert again and tell you what we did on our 25^th anniversary. Under the wonderful stewardship of the eccentric Mr. Boy (“My name is Mr Boy. B-O-Y. You please call me ‘Mr Boy’. Please not call me ‘Lady Boy’”) we island hopped the Gulf of Thailand. Phi Phi Islands, Monkey Beach, Viking Cave and more. We hand-fed bananas to monkeys, and also fed bananas and pineapple to clouds of fish whilst snorkelling. We saw where wiry workmen risk their lives on rickety scaffolding to harvest bird’s nests made of swiftlet saliva for the Chinese market. We walked beaches. We ate. We drank, often from coconuts. Lady Devotea belted out “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” in a wooden hut Karoake Bar on Khai Nai island to the cheers of our somewhat surprised but very appreciative tour group.

And this isn’t normal everyday life for us. We don’t get out of Australia much. We’re not wealthy; we’re pretty average people with a passion for travel that is rarely indulged. So it was just the most amazing day.

So, back to reflecting on more than a quarter of a century of togetherness, and tea.

I have to admit that in that time, I’ve had quite a few jobs. Sometimes really well-paying corporate gigs – I’m smart and able to talk myself into good ones – and sometimes ones that haven’t panned out, or sometimes, none at all. It’s fair to say there’s been times when I haven’t felt like a good provider, other times I’ve had a big salary and an impressive title to balance against my family responsibilities, which is a much bigger priority.

Over the last four years, since I cleverly quit my job as the GFC hit, we’ve worked for ourselves. We’ve had about 7 or 8 projects, one of which had a really poor result, several of which have been really successful and the remainder have bumped along.

The most successful is one where Lady Devotea did all of the hard work. We don’t necessarily measure success in financial terms, but in impact, and a story about it is here.

Lady Devotea and I have differing skills. One is that I love to cook. I can see a dish and make it a personal challenge to recreate it, or improve it, or use it as inspiration. Often Lady D. will say things like “There’s a spinach and lamb ragout with fetta recipe in the newspaper, let’s have that” and, culinary daredevil that I am, I’ll just figure out what goes in it and how to cook it. Recipes are for sissies, really. Either that, or I am incapable of taking instruction, which now that I think on it, was a phrase I saw in my school reports as a kid. Quite often.

I love to cook, and really, to serve. I’m at my happiest when I’m doing something for Lady Devotea. And many times a day, that’s making the tea.

I have a dozen cups a day, and she keeps up most days. We keep about 30 teas in the house. She’s sweet and milky, I’m strictly unadulterated, which means our taste in tea is like our taste in each other – she’s a delightfully olive-complexioned dark-eyed brunette and I’m practically an albino, and if the analogy holds up, rather sweet.

So, I’m the teamaker. And make it I do. In a variety of teacups, using pots, infusers of every shape, the best china or disposable cups. Served on our deck, in bed of a morning, in front of the television, as part of a special meal or over a sandwich.

Every day, save for a few dozen maybe where I’ve been away, I’ve made her a morning cuppa.

Many times over the years, I’ve  had to head out of the house before Lady Devotea arises. I am an early starter, and she is more of a night owl.

When I do, I like to select one of her favourite mugs, place an infuser of a carefully selected tea in it, add the sweetener and place it by the kettle. I’ll fill the kettle with filtered water, ready for her to boil and add.

When she gets up, she’ll know that when I left the house, I was thinking of her.