A very English guide to Teabagging

The other day I learned a very valuable lesson which I will now pass on to save you the discomfort that I am currently still feeling.

When you make a hot drink – especially tea – concentrate. Concentrate really hard.

I’m sitting here now amid the still noticeable, if reduced, stinging from a failed cup of tea two days ago.

In short I’ve been injured at work  - I’d call 'Lawyers for You' if it wasn’t for the deep suspicion on my part that at some point somebody is going to expect to see a photograph. And trust me when I say that you really don’t want to see that photograph.

We do not have a kettle at work – we have a hot tap. Not your ordinary, domesticated hot tap but a special, fancy, hybrid kettle-tap. The water is almost boiling so you just pour it directly into your cup. Bearded, Maypole-dancing, pipe-smoking, Skittles-playing Englanders would no doubt jump around in outraged fury at the thought of using “almost” boiling water on their precious tea but I for one couldn’t care less as long as it’s fast.

And thus we get to the problem. It is fast – too fast. You have to remain focussed when you are using it and I took my eyes off the ball. Which is a shame really, because that’s exactly where the water went.

I poured the water on to my teabag and, in too much of a rush to take proper heed of health and safety, failed to accurately gauge the disembarkation of the cup through the tap/drain gap. The cup banged against the tap and, because I am a complete arse, I fumbled and let go of the handle. The next thing I knew I had a full cup of almost boiling water thrown directly onto my other teabags. Right onto the one area that you absolutely don’t want to find yourself running around an office squealing like a pig, pointing at and demanding that people run over and blow on.

Basically – I scolded my naughty bits. Also the skin around them.

I wasn’t laughing.

Pour cold water on it, everyone kindly opined. Yes, I thought, but I can’t reach it to the sink and I’m really not sure that it would be all that hygienic in the office kitchen. In the end I had to locate a shower and stand in it, blasting myself with cold water. The mirth that this generated around the office can be calculated thusly…

“Who told Glen to use boiling water when he’s teabagging?”

Just one of the many quotes that I heard.

I’ll live. It’s not affected anything that I use much these days so all in all I can’t complain.

I think I might smell vaguely of burnt tea for a few days though…