Tea. A love story

pour a cup, this is a mini memoir

I always understood that a cup of tea was perfect for almost any occasion —heartbreak, engagements, old friends, new friends, difficult news, celebrations, and awkward moments alike. “Pop the kettle on” is a deeply comforting phrase that (to me and most British people) means everything will be okay. Growing up milky breakfast tea was where moments began and ended.

Fast forward a few years, to 2017, and I am sitting on the floor in a beautiful space in London Bridge. Away from the hustle of the city, this room is dark, peaceful, and quiet. Woollen socks patter on the wooden floor towards where the tea ceremony is held. Incense dances in the light and the collection of teaware is both ordinary and exquisite.

I hadn’t been to a tea ceremony before. I had recently left behind a career in fashion and was trying to make sense of this emerging new path. Snacking on women’s circles, meditation courses, kundalini classes — the list goes on — I was craving a quiet practice.

As Lera, who was facil…