Storm in a teacup: memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 6.

Chapter 6.

Mother worked as a tea lady at many of the social and sporting functions in Wattlebird.  And she often took me with her so that I could gain invaluable insight into the machinations of being a tea lady.

Once, she took me along to the Ancient Egyptian Society’s end-of -year morning tea.  Despite their only being four people to serve tea to—all elderly and frail — mother treated them as if they were royalty.

          ‘Such an honour for my child and me to be serving you tea,’ mother said with a smile as she waited with her tea trolley. ‘My child and I haven’t been to Egypt as yet, but I’ve heard they serve the finest tea…or should say, shai?’

          At which point all four present members of the Ancient Egyptian Society raised their teacups to toast my mother and I.

Reclusive tea lady wins top literary prize! Silver Tea- Urn award for memoir!

The tea lady who works for an international law firm declined all requests for interviews, saying only that she would save her prize money—one million dollars—for a rainy day.

Storm in a teacup: memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

Friday nights were dedicated to playing poker. Mother said it was essential for anyone working in the hospitality industry to be able at times, to appear poker-faced.   So, to that end, mother and I played poker at the kitchen table for teaspoons. I learn the art of hiding my hand, of not showing whether I was happy or sad.

          To this day, I still play poker every Friday night, but now with dear friends and other tea ladies. And I’m happy to report that I’ve won an awful lot of teaspoons.

Storm in a teacup: memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

Despite my mother being a self-proclaimed loner, she managed to get around, and was an active member of the C.W.A., the volunteer fire and ambulance brigade, the hospital and football committees, and in her spare time she knitted beanies and tea cosies for charity. ‘Child,’ she would announce, her knitting needles clicking tunefully. ‘A cosy will allow you to keep the tea hot while serving it in style.’

Storm in a Teacup: memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 3.

Chapter 3.

On Sunday mornings, mother and I would go walking in the Jarrah forest which surrounded Wattlebird.

          As we ambled along a track, mother would often point out a red robin or a family of blue wrens to me.  She also   instructed me on the finer points of becoming a tea lady. “Patience is a virtue, keep it if you can. Found seldom in a woman, never in a man.”

          So that now, when I’m jostling my tea trolley up and down the gigantic skyscraper where I work, and asked a staff member if they would like a cup of tea and they answer with a distracted, “yep.”

          I gaze out the window, past the freeways, out towards the hills and beyond where the red robins and blue wrens dwell, and I’m reminded of my mother’s wise counsel— be patient.

 “Milk?” 

          “Yep.”

          “Sugar?”

          “Yep.”

          And I, tempted to weep with frustration, give a gracious smile instead, before asking, “will that be one teaspoon of sugar? or two? or three?”

         

Storm in a Teacup: memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 2.

 Chapter 2.

My mother taught me how to be a tea lady.  With admirable patience she trained me in every aspect. From boiling water to reading tea leaves.  I have such fond memories of sitting alone with my mother at our kitchen table, late into the night, dunking biscuits into teacups brimming with hot milky tea, radiant warmth coming from the old Metters stove, the soothing sound of the radio in the background. In hushed tones mother would tell me about her life.  She told me with great understatement, how she represented not only our home town of Wattlebird, but also Western Australia in the State finals which she then went on to win, thus becoming — Australian tea lady of the year.

          And as I sat and sipped my tea, mother would feed me one, or more, of her secrets.  ‘Warm the pot, always warm the pot, child.’

          Mother also had firm ideas on marriage. “Marry the dullest man you can possibly find, child.That way no woman will ever take him away from you.”

 I’ve since had much time to reflect on this pearl of wisdom. You see, my father, as I was later to find out, had many years before when I was still a babe in arms, run away with a Cabaret singer, never to be seen again. I suspect my father was a bit of a livewire and a ladies’ man that could charm the birds out of the trees. But he broke my mother’s heart.

          And so not wanting my own heart, broken, I vowed to my mother that I’d marry the dullest man I could possibly find.