I ran out of milk yesterday.
Which means no tea or at least no tea as I like it.
I felt a frisson of anxiety, then scolded myself crossly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous! You’re turning into one of those old dears that takes PG Tips on holiday to the Canary Isles! Do without tea until your shopping arrives on Friday.’
‘Well, I could just pop out down the road and pick up some milk from the corner shop?’
‘Drink water! Eight glasses a day, remember? What are you some kind of addict?’
Anyway I decided to give abstinence a go.
There is so much more to tea than meets the eye. It is comfort, reassurance, pure love in a mug. It’s the ideal accompaniment for chocolate and cake. Everything is better when you have a hot cuppa clasped in your hands. It’s the only thing you want when you get up, the first thing you are given when facing a crisis, and the none alcohol solution after dealing with life’s day to day challenges.
Water for all of it’s benefits, doesn’t quite cut the mustard in comparison.
I ended up rooting around for an alternative and found an old jar of instant coffee I’d bought for the plasterer last summer, and a small tin of evaporated milk (I put it in rice pudding sometimes).
I put the kettle on, made myself a hopefully comforting hot beverage and sipped it cautiously. It was nice! Now I know why ‘holiday’ coffee tastes different, they use this retro nectar instead of normal milk. Good knowledge!
After I finished it, I didn’t exactly feel wired, but I didn’t feel ‘good’. But hey, it was only until Friday, so I had a couple more throughout the day.
By the end of the day, the novelty had started to wear off, and I felt distinctly out of kilter when I went to bed.
Woke up this morning, got myself a gun?
Not but I looked like I might? My eyes were bloodshot, I had a cracking headache and my mouth tasted like dog shit, so this combined with a downer could easily turn anyone into an amateur Tony Soprano.
Coffee is evil! No wonder people get headaches coming off it.
Grumpy, I stumbled out of bed, put the kettle on, swore, sighed, turned it off again, then headed to the bathroom and turned on the bath taps.
Then I turned them off.
I need tea. I need milk. Bollocks to waiting till tomorrow, I’m going to jog to the supermarket and get some.
I quickly splash my face, brush my hair and pull on some trackies. None of the usual faffing around putting on ‘natural’ make up or trying to make myself presentable in any way, shape or form. If people run away screaming or faint at till point at my hideous ugliness, then at least I’ll get served quicker.
Before you can say ‘procrastination’ and to the astonishment of my cats, I’m up and out the door, and back within the hour, sweaty and triumphant with two bottles of semi skimmed, some fruit and a sweat on. Result!
Later after my hot bath and hair wash, as I nursed my well earned mug of deliciousness, I realise that this is the first morning I’ve kept to my resolution of walking/jogging every day without quibbling, procrastinating or finding excuses not to go.
In other words:
The fear of losing my figure didn’t get me out of the door and exercising.
The need to be fit enough to be a yoga teacher didn’t budge me.
Even my terror of having a stroke wasn’t enough to get me moving
Only another 24 hours of brew deprivation was scary enough to stir me from the couch.
No wonder I struggled on that hike. It wasn’t them who were too fast, it was me who was totally unfit and unable to participate. I forget that I’m not the same Sista who rushed to the bus stop every day, who marched to Oxford Street at lunchtime on errand, and sprinted off to the gym three nights a week, and am now largely sedentary. Doh.
And this Road to Damascus moment was all down to the golden wonder.
Tea. ‘Tis truly a wondrous thing.
Later this afternoon I went out and bought myself a pedometer and have committed to doing at least 10,000 steps a day, otherwise I will be shambling my way through the hokey cokey with a load of pensioners before I know it. This and the ballroom lessons will hopefully bring me back to peak fitness, and to loving and accepting my body.
And if I waver? No tea. So I won’t.
Whilst it is said everything stops for tea, nothing gets done without it as far as I’m concerned, and one thing’s for sure, I can’t and won’t do without it again.
Every journey begins with one single step. Only 9,999 to go…..