So this will be my first serious blog post here on tea trade. Which of course means that once I push the publish button the Tea Trade Earth will tremble, walls will collapse with me right through the open window and once the dust settles I’m standing in the open window of the collapsed wall amid the debris of Tea Trade. Peter and Jackie will hurry to me on their broomsticks and use their clubs to sweep me of the Earth through the goal posts of the competition and out of this universe. Taking the snitch and all the tea of the world with me of course.
So knowing that I will be swept out of the universe with all the tea I can now start to break all good blog posting rules.
Now, where does one start blogging. I could start at the beginning. Ventilating the little knowledge I have and can find about archaeological findings of tea plants and leaves. Or I could just start like almost all tea books with the mythology of emperor Shen Nong or one of the horror stories starring Bodhidharma.
I could also start with the first tea coming to Europe with the Dutch, conveniently ignoring the rumours that the Portuguese might have beaten my fellow countrymen to it.
Considering that my first tea was before my memory that would not be a good place to start.
Or I could start at the start of the great tea depression: The rise of the teabag and the tea-world crumbling to dust.
Of course I could also start at the beginning of the tea renaissance where tea starts to grow out of the dark ages of the teabag and becomes whole again.
Or I could skip to the very end and find out who has done it. It can’t be the butler, because I have none.
But there are two errors that I will not make in this first post. I will not make it too long and I will not show all my cards. I just keep one for myself.
The wheel of time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legends fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the age that gave it birth comes again. In one age, called the third age by some, an age yet to come, an age long past, a steam rose from a kettle. The steam was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the wheel of time. But it was a beginning.
Unfortunately for the teapot and the day this is the end. Or is it a beginning?