Well nothing much really, except that it's rather symbolic of Englishness and inspires many memories of sitting around the kitchen table late at night with friends drinking tea and Mark eating all the biscuits (we were very benign teenagers). Soon there will also be memories of tea at TimeBank (I'm leaving in December) - using it primarily as an excuse to leave desks and have a gossip, spilling it all over myself / keyboard / notebook, instinctively making an extra cup for my chain-drinking boss...
But tea is also symbolic of Englishness because it's mild and polite - I can drink it all day and not get the shakes, it goes very well with cake and small sandwiches and it requires the use of a kettle.
Which brings me on to one of my primary gripes about America, and a big source of hesitation over this super-power being as super-powerful as they are: They Don't Have Electric Kettles.
Actually that's not entirely true. Jeremy and I (in Boston) do have an electric kettle - possibly the first electric kettle ever made. It sparks whenever you plug it in and it doesn't switch itself off when it boils - just makes an anxious squealing noise. This is fine unless you're like me and tend to forget you've put the kettle on and go and have a shower and emerge in damp confusion to steam and squealing and the beginnings of a small fire.
So you see, I'm not entirely convinced America should be the superpower it claims to be - the lack of kettles seems highly indicative of an inherent backwardness, and don't even get me started on the gaps in public toilets...
I'm moving there for Love, I tell myself, and there are always Reeses Peanut Buttercups to make up for the gaps in technology and sophistication.
Note to self - add english electric kettle to gift registry (and get a power transformer thingy so it works)
I spent about the first year of our relationship using a bloody saucepan because Miguel didn't have a kettle of any sort. Nearly spelt the end....
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