I woke up this morning and it felt like summer! Why did everything feel so different? John took me out for breakfast a new café. We’re very enthusiastic (read: too lazy to cook In the mornings) about eating out for breakfast and I don’t think there are too many cafes within a 5km radius that we haven’t tried breakfast at. But then we found this one. #happy #whatagreatfind Well done, my husband.
I decided, for some reason, I suspect because I just felt like summer was here, to put on a skirt instead of jeans, although I did hedge my bets by taking both a cardigan and my down jacket! John togged himself up in his jeans & jacket and I looked at him, silently regretting my rash decision to wear a skirt and prepared myself for an uncomfortable hour spent shivering in the wind, which is what usually happens when I sit in a café in the morning.
But not this morning! This morning was balmy and warm, and I felt like life was wrapping its arms round me and giving me a big, warm hug. It was heavenly. As I sat there, luxuriating in the sunshine, sneezing at the pollen, feeling happy & content about life, I realised just how much of a difference it makes to me when the temperature is warm. I mean, I know that, I go on about it to my family & friends a lot, I whinge about the cold weather, about having to wear coats & jumpers & long trousers, but I hadn’t realised how much happier I feel when I’m somewhere warm. It’s kind of like when you live in the UK, you just live with Seasonal Affective Disorder, that’s just the way life is, and you don’t realise how much it affects you until you go over to the South of France or Spain or Italy for a few weeks and wallow in the sunshine, getting happier by the day. Mind you, that could just be due to the fact that you also don’t have to go to your day job while you’re over there, but still.
On top of feeling amazing because I was sat basking in the warmth of the Queensland spring, I had THE nicest pot of tea that I’ve had in a long time. If you don’t already know (where have you been hiding?), the abysmal tea-making abilities of the cafés on the Gold Coast are a constant source of irritation for me. They seem to harbour this arrogant assumption that it’s okay to offer people a pot of tea with a tea bag in it, not even loose leaves (heaven forbid that they learn the difference in taste between tea bags & loose leaf), and the pot is so small that doesn’t even give you a mug-sized amount of beverage. And then charge $5 or $6 for it! I don’t think so. I’ve educated more than one café owner as to the error of their ways. The kids reckon I’m like Maggie Smith in The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel where she has a go about the cups of tea she’s offered in America. Apologies to my American friends, but if that movie is correct, it looks like you lost your tea-making abilities after you threw that party in Boston. And the Gold Coast slavishly follows all things American, which may account for their appalling tea-making abilities, who knows.
You’ll be sad to hear that I didn’t get the chance at a second pot of tea (which I was all set on having: now that I’d found somewhere who made a good pot of tea, I wasn’t going to leave easily), because John, in his jeans and jacket, was seriously overdressed for the temperature and, even after taking his jacket off, was beginning to suffer the early stages of heat stroke. With great reluctance, on this first summery day of the season, I left my new-found tea heaven. But I’ll be back.