Time for Tea

My grandad passed away a couple of months ago. He had reached the ripe old age of 96, and I’m grateful to say he had a good life and a good death. I know that it might sound a bit odd to say he had a good death, but he did! He had been fiercely independent until the last few months of his life and he spent no more than a few weeks in hospital, where he was cared for brilliantly; he had the chance to say goodbye to those he loved; and he passed away peacefully. We were actually travelling when we were told that he wasn’t expected to make it through the week, but he hung on, and we were able to see him the day after we got back home. He high fived and sang songs to my children in his hospital bed, which I felt perfectly reflected the life he led- a family man who loved playing music and was always full of life and fun. (When I was a child he was the one who gained the respect of young onlookers as he zipped around the ice rink- I was proud he was my grandad!)

I loved his funeral. Again, I know that might sound odd, but I really find funerals so cathartic. I don’t cry all that much, but at a funeral I find I have the chance to cry for not just the recently deceased but for other people I have lost too. So at Grandad’s funeral I was able to remember and grieve for my grandma, and my mum, too. It felt special and I was appreciative of the opportunity.

Something I really valued at my grandad’s funeral was that we were able to remember both his strengths and his weaknesses, but in a positive way. I don’t think I have ever experienced that at a funeral before. We celebrated things I had never heard of until that day- such as the fact that in his role as an RAF pilot, once the war was over, he was part of the team that rescued and brought home prisoners of war. Amazing! My dad and his brothers did such a beautiful eulogy that I wanted to go back in time and re-write Mum’s (there’s so much more we could have said, but I suppose that’s always the way). His life really was honoured, and rightfully so! But, in the eulogy, there was also a brilliant, rather telling, comment made by my uncle: ‘You will all be surprised to find out that Dad had girlfriends before Mum’ (needless to say, no one was. He was always a bit of a flirt!). Or in the address, the minister made reference to Grandad’s reluctance (stubbornness?) to stop driving in his final years; itt had been a source of contention for us all. Neither comment took away from celebrating Grandad, but they did serve to remind us that none of us are perfect!

After the funeral and wake, family members all gathered together at Grandma and Grandad’s bungalow, sorted through things, and worked out who wanted what. (I love the cake slice and cake forks I left with, and have already had occasion to put them to good use!) But as part of that process, you realise there are things that no one wants, that will just get thrown away. It makes you wonder what the point is in collecting things, buying more things, saving things- if it’s all just going to get discarded in the end. I know that’s not the whole story- that things can bring us life and joy whilst we have them, and that just because someone else doesn’t want something, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth having- but still, it’s a sobering thought.

Which brings us to the title of this blog post, and indeed this blog: Time for Tea. One thing that was discovered whilst sorting through Grandad’s things, was a beautifully gift wrapped Whittard’s tea set- complete with a teapot for one, pretty tins of loose tea, and a packet of biscuits. All completely untouched. It was given to him by my sister and I six years earlier for his 90th birthday! I am not one to be constrained by best before dates (just ask my brother in law about the terrible hot chocolate I made for him last year… I think it was seven years out of date! I always thought it tasted a bit odd but I put it down to being made with water, not milk!), but even I knew those biscuits were a goner. Still, we salvaged the teapot and teas! In fact, I’m making use of them right now as I sit typing this, cup of tea in hand, and a picture of the teapot is also the icon for this blog!

The night before the funeral I had been in a text marathon with a friend, trying to figure out a name for the blog that I was going to start. We had run through loads of options but none were available, or felt right. The next morning Time for Tea randomly popped into my head, which I texted to her, and she responded to with approval. Imagine my surprise when I got home that night, following the funeral, and looked at the unopened returned present properly, only to see that the set of teas were labelled Time for Tea! It felt serendipitous, like I couldn’t possibly not use that name now! Another touch of serendipity (call it fate, call it coincidence, call it what you will!) was that the artist of the design of the tins had signed his work- and he shared his name with my son. It’s not like my son’s name is ‘Dave’ (which I imagine would make this type of coincidence more probable!) so it felt to me as if Time for Tea was meant to be!

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how Time for Tea got its name.