Unexpected Delights

It was one of those moments.

We were in Peterborough. It’s an odd town.

Not far enough north to be a Northern English town; too far north to be a southern one. Too far east to be the Midlands, perilously close to being too far west to be East Anglia. A town that has fluctuated with the fortune of Kings and Queens; Church and State; agricultural and industrial revolutions. A town where the traffic flows are incomprehensible; it’s new and old and exciting and industrial and rich and poor.

And we ended up there.

After a website (incorrectly) suggested the Neolithic site at Flag Fen would be closed until the following morning; we strolled the town. Partaking of a small lunch at a little café (called Ricco’s, I vaguely recall. Simple fare done with a smile) we decided to stroll the banks.

It was a river, and this meant that it was covered in water fowl and people feeding them. A Chinese restaurant aboard a barge. Some nice trees etc.

But we were drawn to a feature on the landscape – it looked large, old and churchy. We wandered towards it.

It was Peterborough Cathedral; it was very old, had some even older bits; and is the final resting place of Katherine of Aragon, Queen of England, who it is fair to say, got some rather poor treatment after many years of happy marriage to Henry XIII. There was a nice tribute to her there; which was pretty factual, leaving out any reference to their daughter together Mary, who grew up to be arguably the most violently appalling English monarch of the last thousand years. Another Mary, Stuart (originally Stewart, but the French alphabet had no ‘w’ ), the one often referred to as “Queen of Scots’ but also was Queen of France and who gave birth to James I (of England, also known as James VI of Scotland, and also another contender for arguably the most violently appalling English Monarch of the last thousand years) was buried here for 25 years half a millennia ago but was later moved.

Phew, history is hard work, so I just posted a few photos on Twitter.

Within minutes I had heard from @fancyacuppanow, who suggested if we were in Peterborough, we visit Margaret’s Tea Rooms. I checked the time – and the website – and determined Margaret’s was to shut in just a few minutes but opened at 8am, so we made a decision that breakfast might see us at this location.

It’s on one of those streets particular to England where the street at right angles to the street you are on is actually the continuation of the street you are on and the street you are on suddenly becomes a different street, but a little stuffing around and we found it at just after 9 am.

It seemed closed, but was not locked. I stuck my head in and found they did not open until 10.

This sort of stuff makes my blood boil.

I pointed out that the website said otherwise; and they remarkably did what I would have done in their situation and just opened on the spot!

We were soon followed in by a few others.

It was like being in a private lounge room, with family photos and mementos;  several dressers crammed with stuff; bits for sale alongside bits for decoration.

Each table had a teacup with fresh flowers floating in it, which was lovely.

We ordered two breakfasts and two teas; I went for the Pai Mu Tan and Lady Devotea went for the Irish Breakfast. Tea arrived first. The Pai Mu Tan was excellent, which I think is something you can assume if it’s fresh and has been well treated, which this had.

I proceeded to launch into several cups –it was quite a generous pot – and Lady D certainly enjoyed the Irish Breakfast. I did try hers but by that stage it had steeped about ten minutes and I couldn’t really comment on it.

Anyway, quite delicious breakfasts arrived and we tucked in.

Happy and ready for the day, it was time to leave and so I nipped up to pay.

The owner Michael West came up to sort it out and; one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, you are swapping life stories.

Michael and his husband Keith own the place, though Keith also works elsewhere, Keith does all the blending; Mike is a whizz in the kitchen. In fact, his business card bears his title “Ever so good at making cakes” which there was plenty of evidence to suggest was accurate.

We chatted for ages – Mike is clearly adored by his staff and has a great sense of finesse that shines though in everything they do at Margaret’s Tea Rooms, which is named after his mother; of whom there were many hilarious anecdotes.

Keith was not present; which was a shame; but had he been, we might well still be there as we have some serious points to discuss on African teas to start with.

We’ve been on the road ten weeks. And so, in an unexpected place, after seeking out some of the best tea houses in England, with their glittering reputations, we finish at Margaret’s Tea Room, and for the first time since Barcelona, I’m going to award a tearoom 100 Caj.

As explained what seems so long ago, the Caj is a measure of how much I want to be in a tea room. And so a day later and three counties away; I sincerely wish we were breakfasting there again.

Incidentally, I also have some of their blends to try. I’ll keep you all posted.