Earlier this afternoon, I was reading the lovely Na’ama Yehuda’s Tea Time poem which gave me the urge to make myself a cup of tea. English Breakfast, to be precise. The image she used to accompany her poem was taken by her niece, Smadar Halperin-Epshtein, and looks like part of a store specializing in tea paraphernalia, or at the very least all sorts of kitchen stuff. My comment to her post was:
“If I could, I would include a picture of MY teapot collection. And now, for some strange reason, I felt the need to plug in the kettle 😉”
I actually tried to insert a picture into my comment but knew it was for naught. I told her I’d just have to do a post so she could see! And well, dang it, here it is 😉
I wiped off the dust (what’s visible anyway) and took this picture. I do have a couple more in my “store” as we call my sort of cold room, notably a Santa Claus…
I stared at my collection and reminisced about why I have so many teapots in the first place. No, no, no, I was just collecting, like those who do spoons or plates from all over the world. I once had a plan. These teapots would be put to use in my eventual tea house. Family members, especially my sister, Lisa, started giving me them as gifts. I don’t remember ever telling them to stop but eventually it became clear that they were just going to sit there.
Why, you ask? Life got in the way. First came the house, then the kids, then, when I started talking about starting my catering business, Mick announced he was going to leave his job and start his own business. We couldn’t both take risks at the same time. I believed in him and completely supported him all the way – his was a more lucrative business that could actually pay the bills rather than mine, which was an “unrealistic pipe dream”, anyway. So I put mine aside. And worked in offices as secretary/administrative assistant/supervisor, blah blah blah. They can give it the title they want but it’s all the same difference. I was good at it and paid decently so it lessened his stress.
Within a few years, Mick’s business was doing really well and I wanted to leave my abominable boss and boring-to-tears job and focus on my potential catering. He balked. I gave in. Till I got myself liberated 😏. Yessiree. I made sure I was liberated. Which was smart in the end, as I had a contract and they had to pay me five months’ salary. I had done catering jobs here and there plus personalized birthday cakes, over the previous twenty years, but now I could focus on getting more contracts. I started making meals for busy families. I started working on my website (forget it, it’s shite, right now), I did corporate lunches here and there. That dream was still in the back of my mind but growing dimmer.
And then Mick died. And everything changed. I still did meals for about a year after but that was just not lucrative enough. I got offered the job at the golf club and slowly stopped catering. The idea of owning my own little tea house has gone to the wayside. I’m too old for that type of business now. No, don’t argue. I am at the stage in my life where I don’t want to be stuck to such a business. And I don’t want to look into a partnership either as that brings its own headaches.
My house is for sale. I want to downsize. I want to travel, breathe, live. I will find something else that will permit me to do just that.
Those teapots? They are now officially clutter and need to be “Kon-maried”.
Ironically, as I was writing this post, Na’ama wrote another poem that arrived in my in-box bearing a message that spoke to me, effectively book-ending my little musing. Do go read it, it is absolutely lovely, it ends with these words:
“You’ll find the path
To follow when you
— Na’ama Yehuda