Teapot shuffle

My new red toaster arrived today. Yippee. It is just what I ordered. What are the odds. Don’t go there. What it meant, after getting it out of the shipping container and reading the instructions (don’t put it in water. Plug it in), I had to rearrange the kitchen counter. One of the items taking space was a Prince Albert china teapot. It’s lovely and, while I drink tea everyday, I’ve never used it. It belonged to my ex’s mother and it was a treasured possession to her. That’s what John told me and I don’t know how it ended up with me. From what I know, John’s mother abandoned him. He was sent to foster care. So, how did this teapot make the journey without a scratch or chip? In this case, the value must be in what it represented. When all else is in turmoil, the steadiness of a cup of tea well made.

As I’ve said, I enjoy historical fiction, both written and in video format. This evening I watched “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” by D.H. Lawrence. You would expect steaming love scenes. Yes. Indeed. Buttocks and thighs. Bodice ripping galore. Unlike other such films where the moans of ecstasy are projected by the female character, in this one, Oliver was equally vocal. It seemed more balanced and realistic. When the whole plot is resolved, and the audience has weathered the trials, it would be nice to see the happiness prolonged a bit before the closing credits. It’s as if the director cuts to “The End” like a post coital man having his own climax.

But that’s just one viewer. Cup of tea, please.