My idea of a perfect afternoon is a day spent at a swap meet. Since the really good ones only happen on specific days of the month - all of which I always happen to miss, my consolation prize always comes in the form of having tea, but not just the kind where you drop a sad, withered tea bag that has the remnants of what used to be called ‘tea,’ just like the crud you get when you poor the last of your cereal in a bowl, into your mug - the kind that comes with beautifully crafted China, high quality flavorful tea, melt-in-your-mouth tiny pastries and an aura of peace, calm and quiet.

I’d rather let the photos do the talking for themselves, but these were taken by me at “The T Room,” one of the most charming places I’ve ever been in Montrose. The occasion? Two cunning locas by the names of Alina and Nathalie kidnapped me for a birthday surprise last month. I could have spent forever there.

I’m feeling particularly brave about writing here today, so here is my contribution to bad poetry everywhere:

Tea, tea, tea, tea, can I tell you how much I love thee?

You warm my hands, my heart and my soul

From my fingers way down to my weary toes

If I’m in a bad mood or just upset

You’re there to soothe me and make me forget

All the worries on my mind

To you I’d like to make a shrine

Earl Grey, English Breakfast and Cinnamon spice

I can’t decide so I throw some dice

Whichever flavor I happen to drink

I rarely pour you down the kitchen sink

I like you brewed, the old fashioned way

A tea bag will do if I’m in a cafe

There’s nothing in the world I look more forward to

Than sharing my sunny afternoons with you

Of course, you are perfect for stormy weather

With you, there isn’t anything I can not tether