In perhaps one of the greatest turnarounds in sport, I now drink tea instead of coffee.
For a man so committed to the bean as to start an unsolicited, and somewhat frowned upon, newsletter at his work following the installation of a new coffee machine, to add an additional 3 minutes to his kettle-to-quaff time is miraculous.
But it’s not the first time I’ve been teatotal…
Why did I start drinking tea the first time?
I got two things for my 11th birthday. A mobile phone1 and a cup of tea every morning for as long as I lived with my parents. The former stole the headlines, the latter stole my heart.
I pictured my parents spending 10 minutes discussing whether I was ready for a phone, but weeks arguing over whether I was ready for caffeine.
It quickly became clear that my mum was arguing for, and my dad against.
On weekday mornings, when my mum made it, she would tip toe into my room, whisper “Good morning”, and delicately place a mug of unconditional love on my Pokémon drink coaster.
On weekends it was my dad’s job. His technique was to stomp into my room and crash land a now half full mug onto Pikachu’s face. A cup of pure aggression, but still a free cup of tea.
1Not a Nokia 3210, because my dad wanted a deal in Phones 4u and they would only give him one on a more expensive phone. The deal that was eventually negotiated wasn’t money off, but for the bloke in the shop to preinstall the Crazy Frog video upon commencement of the contract.
I was nonplussed at the time, but it turned out to be worth it because I continued to get attention at school a good week after my birthday (until I’d sent it to everyone on the playground and I shrank back into the walls).
Why did I stop drinking tea?
In another educational shift in my life, I went to university.
By now I was occasionally making the Saturday lunchtime tea, but I wasn’t responsible for the general upkeep of the tea station.
‘General upkeep of the tea station’ means making sure there is always in date milk in the house.
I left home book smart, but not street smart.
What if it went off before I could finish it? In a high turnover household this was never a risk (so long as you stuck to two pinters over fourers).
I didn’t even know how long milk lasts after opening. Was it like coffee that lasts for ages? Or was it like milk that goes off after a few days?
Asking these questions answered my question.
Day 1 of uni I went to big Sainsbury’s and bought the biggest and cheapest tub of instant coffee I could find. I hurried past the milk, trying not to make eye contact but stealing a glance at a fourer of organic semi-skimmed.
Before even a day to test if I could survive without caffeine, I went from tea with milk2 to black coffee2.
In A-level economics, we were taught about substitutes. If two products were substitutes, and the price of one went up, people would buy more of the other. The teacher often gave tea and coffee as an example of substitutes. I remember the first time he said this I nearly spat my orange juice out3. But university was worth the fees and now I understood. I was just a rational economic actor.
The taste was irrelevant, the logistics were undeniable.
2No sugar – never have.
3Not tea, economics was after lunch and I used to get a Tropicana smooth as part of my Tesco meal deal.
Why did I start drinking tea again?
With astonishing commitment, after 3 weeks of trying to get hold of it, on Friday night I finally watched The Addams Family for the 1.5th time (wasn’t really concentrating the first time). It was about 10pm by the time I started it, and just as Lurch and Grandmama were about to pour boiling oil on the Christmas carolers during the opening credits, a dusty but familiar thought popped into my head… “Fancy a cup of tea actually”.