The Mad Hatter Tea Hater
But it's tea. It's all tea. Is this tea? What's this one? The woman picks up an elegantly labeled square tin, one of 9 identical tins lined up on the massive buffed black stained maple trestle table. You'd think the gigantic silver samovar and rows of teacups would give it away but evidently there remains some confusion. Oh, I don't like tea. This one's tea, too. She frowns, shakes her head and tsk tsk's under her breath, her default involuntary reaction to disappointment. The woman has now picked up and replaced 6 out of the 9 tins, a variety of black, white, rooibos and herbal loose teas, all ridiculously overpriced and ornately presented alongside a selection of individually hand filled sachets. Ian stands politely at attention, ready at a moment's notice to draw a steaming hot cup for whomever asks. Nothing he says, however, assuages this woman. Granted, she's obviously unclear on the entire theme of the baby shower being that of a Tea Party. T...