For the longest time, ever since I was a girl, I wanted to be a lady who lunches.
Or more specifically a lady who High Teas.
It is so a thing…
My nanna was an exotic creature.
Always dressed in designer clothes, beautiful shoes and bags, hair never out of place.
We would gather at her home – the one with the entire top floor covered in windows overlooking Jells Park in Melbourne, the farmlet in the back of Pakenham Upper (*snigger* say that fast, gave us grandchildren HOURS of fun) or the palatial expanse of her home in the country – and she would produce feasts from her modest kitchen for 20-30 people at a time.
I was in awe of this woman.
As I mentioned to Veggie Mama, one of my earliest memories is having tea with this gorgeous woman.
I was young – 4 maybe? – and I made her a cup from a teabag I found in the bin served with a slice of bread smothered thickly with vegemite.
She ate every bite and washed it down with that swill and declared it the nicest afternoon tea she had ever had.
Years later I would remember this as she would regale us with tales of the exotic locations her and my grandfather traveled to.
Most of all I loved the tales of the High Teas.
The tiered trays presented with delicate morsels.
The tradition of it all.
It sounded and still does, so regal and dignified.
Just like my Nanna.
I never did get to go to High Tea with my Nanna, too wrapped up in life and kids and the general mayhem that is my existence.
And that makes me sad.
I regretted it as I sat with her, washed her face and her hair in those final days. Her slowly fading away, my meals provided by what I could scrounge from the vending machines.
But one day I will go to a High Tea and I will sit down and revel in the loveliness
The tiered trays.
It will be all that I dreamed of as that little girl sitting with her beloved Nanna
Serving up warm murky water and vegemite with a side of bread.