My husband was a tea addict. Early morning ritual was a cup of tea while still in bed. I would make the tea, and bring it for him, and wake him up. He would have another two cups at breakfast, then another one at eleven. In between if guests came, he would take a cup, or two with them. There was no doubt about his love of tea. He would pour himself the last drops left in the teapot, or thermos. He would have tea again in the evening. If guests came — more tea. All that was black tea. At bedtime a cup of green tea would be needed.
He liked his tea — strong. We used to get Kenyan tea. R never liked tea made in the microwave. I would boil the tea till it was the right color he liked. The only good thing was that the tea was made with milk, and no water.
With all that tea made by me, I started liking it too. I would have two cups with my breakfast, and another one in the evening with him, when he would come back from playing golf. When I noticed my pearly whites getting stained with the strong tea I brewed, I switched to one cup of tea, and that too microwaved with only one tea bag.
Dear husband couldn’t do without his strong tea, and he remained addicted till he got stomach cancer. As his illness progressed, he tapered off tea. At the end he had to forsake that too.
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