Tomorrow, three meetings for entirely unrelated organisations. And I’m taking the minutes for two of them, which wasn’t very well planned – though the first was arranged in December, the second a month ago, but it’s the third, only set a fortnight ago, which actually matters most, but which I’m not minuting – so all three it is. But it means that only one day is messed up instead of three, so I don’t really mind.
Things I’d like to talk about have to remain confidential, so I’m finding myself stuck for much to say. Maybe I’ll try to delve back into childhood memories, because a good many of you seem to like that – but I’m not sure if I remember anything more. I dunno. Maybe one of you could suggest something?
Russell has taken to bringing me tea in bed, which is very kind but I rarely drink it. He brings the wrong tea, sadly. I like a range of teas and tisanes and have at least a dozen on the go, but first thing in the morning it has to be proper tea – that is, it could be one of several, such as Earl Grey, Lapsang, Rose Pouchong or, at a pinch, straightforward PG Tips, but not peppermint or camomile tea or, as he’s been bringing recently, Rooibos. Is that how you spell it? Redbush tea. It’s fine, I quite like it, but it’s wrong at that time of day. But after several mornings, it seems churlish to say anything, so I’m just quietly tipping it away and have resolved not to buy any more for a while.
I mention it because he’s just brought me a cup of tea now. Yup, Rooibos, and the smell of it first thing in the morning has put me off altogether. Fortunately, he went outside for a few minutes, so I nipped through to the kitchen, threw it away and made a cup of Lady Grey instead. I wonder if he’s drinking the same – I mean, if he really likes it, I suppose I’ll have to buy it again and tell him I’ve gone off it a bit. I put the tin behind the superior teas yesterday, but he hauled it out again, so it is a deliberate choice.