Thursday, June 23, 2011

My name is Brigid, and I am addicted to caffeine.


I have an on-and-off relationship with caffeine. In addition to having the same general affect on me as a few tequila shots, it messes with my migraines, hurts my vocal cords, and makes someone with a family history of breast cancer very confused during self-examination time. But somehow, every time I tour in the UK, I come home re-addicted to caffeine.

I blame a combination of Scottish and Southern manners. My Scottish friends new and old offer me a "cuppa" the minute I see them, and being a polite Kentuckian, I don't want to be a rude guest. I certainly don't want to be the one who says, "Do you have anything herbal?" Aside from that excuse, I absolutely adore a "cuppa," especially when I see that cute little pitcher for the milk (never cream) and tiny spoons for stirring and extracting teabags. It's all so precious -- the ceremony, the electric kettles everyone seems to have, the atmosphere -- I simply cannot resist.

Oh, does it taste delicious! And oh, does it work! I'm a chatty person anyway, but give me caffeine, and I will catch myself literally jumping up and down when something excites me. I apologize to all my British hosts. I should have warned you.

When I finally got home, I bought some proper breakfast tea, not wanting to resort to the trouble that is coffee, and I have been daily weaning myself off the drug. This morning I let the teabag steep for a mere 20 seconds in my adorable polka-dotted teapot (yay for wedding presents!). It doesn't taste like Scotland, but I'll soon be able to switch to the decaf breakfast tea I also purchased.

Just in time for the next trip to Scotland.

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