I have inadvertently weaned myself from tea.

Yes, that is correct: the elixir of life, nectar of gods and my drug of choice that is tea has lost its taste.

No, that’s not quite right. I‘ve lost my ability to taste and enjoy anything that isn’t steeped in umami, salt, sugar (fresh fruit is good – mainly bananas and apples) or a suitable combination of these.

No, well, I did not misplace my taste buds but rather I was cruelly and unnecessarily robbed of them. Attacked by soaring temperatures, paralysing headaches and that certain little je ne sais quoi that, while moderate in its treatment of my respiratory system, has been very much the butcher of my appetite over the past five days.

I’ve felt no inclination to boil the kettle once. A nice brew is likely to induce anything from mild unpleasantness to nausea.

Who am I if I don’t drink tea?

(I also cannot stomach, or am still wary of trying: yoghurt, toast without strong toppings, rice crackers, lettuce and nuts. Not sure about potatoes but I’m guessing I would be boiling them for nothing.)





Howl at the moon

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