Tea

When I went to the Tower of London and then to tea (see “Bridge Work”) my companion had forgotten her wallet, and hence I picked up the tab for the tea and crumpets. I was perfectly happy to do this, because I am a firm believer in everything coming out in the financial wash. I knew that if I paid the tab on that day there would be another day down the road when she would pick up the check for me. This is my belief in karma manifesting itself, and is also a wonderfully passive aggressive way to make friends.

My munificence was rewarded on Monday, when Allie (the companion) and I went out to lunch after our morning classes. On her recommendation, we went to a pub that is situated across from the school library on Chancery Lane. Chancery Lane is a particularly stodgy part of town. The British Law courts are situated there, so most of the area is taken up with expensive cafes, wine bars, and legal bookshops. There are also several stores that specialize in legal paraphernalia, which is more amusing than it sounds because lawyers (or barristers and solicitors as I believe they are called, I must admit that my knowledge of the British legal system is limited to what I can glean from Witness for the Prosecution and A Fish Called Wanda) still wear wigs and robes when they argue cases in court, thus legal clothing shops look like costume rental stores.

The pub where we ended up having lunch was very much a product of the neighborhood. Although the menu was comprised mostly of standard pub fare—fish and chips, burgers, etc. — the interior of the building was an impressive mix of the stately and the campy. The place was called “The Knights Templar” and was part of a larger chain of pubs called “Whetherspoons.” It used to be a banking house, and the architecture was impressive. Massive high ceilings, supported by black gilded columns, supported chandeliers that illuminated a large bar with black and white tiles and miniature statues of knights set about the place. “This is nothing,” Allie said, “wait until you see the bathrooms!”

We went through the usual pub routine, which meant ordering at the bar, and giving them our table number. We carried our drinks (water for both of us, as it was the middle of the day and we were too cheap to spend the pound fifty for soda), which were drawn at the bar, back to our table and awaited the arrival of our lunches. Because pubs are mainly for drinks the food tends to be on the cheap side, which is good, but it means that certain amenities, such as napkins and silverware, are often missing from the tables. We went and got our own place settings from a side bar that was the laiden with cutlery like some sort flatware buffet, and settled down to enjoy a wonderful lunch of soup and sandwiches.

After the meal, we went for a short walk up Chancery Lane, and then decided to go back to my flat to watch Ang Lee’s Sense and Sensibility, which had been assigned for Jane Austen class, and which I happen to own. On our way back, however, Allie wanted to stop at one of the upscale café chains on Fleet Street called Apoströphe, in order to buy a cup of what they called chocolate fondue—a concoction that is basically comprised of drinkable chocolate, (like Starbucks’ Chantico). As I had no real desire for either chocolate or caffeine I decided to go into the Twinings teashop that was next door.


The teashop was not a place that served high tea, but rather the flagship tea store for the Twinings Tea brand. I’m a fanatic tea drinker, and my love of the beverage has always dictated that I have a selection of teas in my home pantry. I had passed the Twinings sign many times without going in because I knew that if I entered the shop I would not escape without spending a lot of money on tea. Now, however, I had a valid excuse to go in because I needed a tea ball in order to brew the loose-leaf tea that my dad’s best friends had sent me in a care package. The store itself was surprisingly small, which a small plaque informed me was due to it’s origins as a 18th century coffee house, where the likes of Samuel Jonson and later Charles Dickens had gotten their caffeine fixes while discussing the world of letters. That’s what I love about London: the city is lousy with literary history. You can’t even run a simple errand without bumping into something of historical significance; though granted I had stacked the deck a bit by choosing to shop at a centuries old tea firm instead of a super market.

I managed to escape the store with only one box of tea and some postcards in addition to my tea ball. Allie and I reconnected with our beverages of choice now secured, and walked back across the bridge to my flat to enjoy the movie. Not bad for a Monday.