I’ll put the Kettle on

I’ll put the kettle on

The ritual of making a cup of tea finds its way into so many significant and equally unremarkable events in a person’s life that it’s easy to overlook the quiet comfort that it brings. The rush of a tap filling the kettle, the familiar click to start the boil, and the careful selection of a favourite cup begins an act so frequently repeated we could all but do it in our sleep. Each ritual will differ slightly; herbal tea or a builders brew, plant milk or cow’s milk delivered that morning by the milkman, and the divisive question of which order it should all be added to the cup. All of these questions before we’ve even got onto whether you take sugar or not. Each of us has our own process which brings an element of calm and peace in those short few minutes, even if made in a rush to gulp it down before running out of the door. 

A friend or family member pops round and one of the first questions when they walk through the door is always, ‘do you want a cup of tea?’ You stand in the kitchen and start your conversation over the quiet but present sound of bubbling water, of pouring and filling up a cup and a spoon stirring a teabag in steaming water. Walking over to the fridge you peer back, still mid-conversation as you open the fridge door, and pull out the milk, still talking as you unscrew the cap. Once it’s finished, you sit and the conversation can really begin, hot tea in your palms, taking careful sips between nods and replies. It warms you as you reach for another biscuit, or perhaps a slice of cake. Not much goes so well together in life as the coveted tea and cake, lubricating endless gatherings, meetings, and taking centre stage at unfathomable numbers of parties.

The simple ritual takes us through conversations of catching up, of happy news of a new partner or a new baby, it fills silences and it helps us navigate tough times of heartbreak or loss. Without often a thought, but in an act of comfort, we say, ‘I’ll put the kettle on’. Tap, click, stir. We return to the ritual and hold its product there in hand under smiles and solemn tears. 

Sometimes a freshly made cup of tea sits patiently when we sit alone, perhaps with a book in hand or as we settle in to let our minds escape into the world of a new series or a long-awaited film. Tap, click, stir. Tea is comfort if you are feeling lonely or relief if you are glad to be in your own company, it’s a companion that’s always welcome. There are times when we don’t even witness the ritual itself, but, as you are handed a freshly made cup of tea in bed you know the steps taken to make it for you, and that brings in itself the intimate feeling of love, of caring, of a simple act and the time taken to put the kettle on.

Hannah Cox