Tea House Theatre

Something found not forgotten

I sit in an English tea room on a sunny afternoon in late June 2013. My two little girls interrupt the calm laziness with the occasional scream as one attempts to strangle the other, the dog barks and the one member of staff potters around cleaning. Customers sit on the comfy leather chairs and talk, the classical music dictates the rhythm of the room. I release the hound, who bounds out onto the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens as if they were his own, I stand and make tea; a rich blend of Ceylon OP1 and Assam GBOP with a round smooth flavour. I sit once more, my wife joins me, the dog has run off and the sun lengthens and stretches the shadows through the great glass windows of the Tea House. My chess partner is late, he is never late and i start to think the evening might be my own. The hard working people of Vauxhall head for the underground and I embrace the warmth and calm of the Tea House Theatre. We did it, by Jove we did it. H