Brought to you by cabaiste84 and the word 'milkshake’.To quote Kate Beaton, "what a ridiculous thing I just made". This morning it became moderately less ridiculous. I like it a lot.
16:20- edited because morbane was right, I think, about the end.
Tetrapods and Teapots
There were more appropriate places for an afternoon tea party. But Mortimer, her beloved, was eccentric, so they were taking it in the glasshouse, in August. Fortunately, she simply glowed in the sweltering heat.
Poor Carruthers, the butler, looked decidedly unsteady, trundling in the trolley, piled high with tiny, crustless sandwiches, little cakes, rosebud madeleines, macaroons (Mortimer’s favourite, she suspected, because he liked saying the name), scones, curls of butter, best raspberry jam, cold pots of clotted cream and, of course, a brown betty filled with carefully steeped Lady Grey, steam curling upwards from its spout.
Mortimer considered tea “poorly flavoured hot water”. So he had his milkshake.
The problem, she reflected, nibbling a scone (jam first, then cream), was that this was Mortimer’s glasshouse, his ‘sanctum sanctorum’. Mortimer loved a very specific kind of zoology. So the place was full of lizards.
“Oh my dear!” Mortimer announced happily as a Komodo Dragon scuttled out of a nearby bush and ran under the table, making her female friends shriek, “having tea here is such fun! Better than Claridges, eh?”
She smiled back. Lizards made most women shriek, but then she wasn’t most women. Not unless any of them were half-salamander.
© Ellen Couch, 2010
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