Storm in a teacup: memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 8.

 Chapter 8.

Mother, never one for sitting around, went hiking when not serving tea or volunteering for the many causes she belonged to. Together we trekked the countless bush-tracks near our small country town. And when tramping, Mother would often burst into song.

          She possessed a great singing voice, and a  knack for mimicking artists such as Elvis Presley, Dusty Springfield and Janis Joplin.  Her favourite song though was —Rehab— by the late, great Amy Winehouse. I can see mother now, gyrating   in the middle of  a bush-track, doing those very distinctive  Amy Winehouse moves, hands cutting the air , snake-lidded eyes, while protesting in a soulful voice that no-one was going to put her into rehab.

          But after, once we were further along the track, mother would murmur softly, ‘damn shame.’

               

Storm in a teacup:memoirs of a tea lady. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Mother often worked as a volunteer at the Wattlebird haven, which was a refuge for the broken hearted. Or as mother described it, ‘child, it’s a place for grown-ups who’ve lost their way.’

          ‘Is that why it’s so crowded?  I asked.

‘It is child, it is.’

Mother worked as a tea lady at the haven, a job she was devoted to. ‘A broken heart can be mended, child. And a good start  — is a pair of ears and a cup of tea.’

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.’