Storm in a Teacup: memoirs of a tea lady

Chapter 1.

I was born with a sugar spoon in my mouth and a tea cosy on my head.  So it seemed inevitable that my mother, a tea lady herself, should teach me how to be a tea lady from early childhood.  I have fond memories of standing next to my mother by the old Metters wood stove in our weatherboard and iron cottage in the country town of Wattlebird where we lived.  Winter and summer, my mother chopped wood for that insatiable stove.  I can see her now by the mountainous wood-heap, poised with an axe lifted high above her head. Which she’d then swing down hard with all her might to chop a huge log of wood, and as she did, she’d cry out me, “child, always remember the operative word in tea lady, is lady.”

          So whether I’m chopping wood, cleaning out the gutters or serving cups of tea at a rock concert, my mother’s words come back to me.