And Mug

I wanted to explain a little further about the name of my blog.  Previously I explained why paper and pen.  Let me tell you about “mug of”

Sometimes one of the most important decisions is a mug of? The anticipation of wrapping one’s hands around a particular mug; followed by that first smell; finally taking that first sip.  It certainly is one of life’s pleasures and for many an integral part of their day.  Over the years my “mug of..” has changed.  I will freely admit to having been a coffeeholic.  Twenty mugs of coffee would have been the norm.

I began to research and taste various coffee beans.  A friend gave me a coffee grinder so the experiments continued but now it was to find the ideal grind.  Now I was not a coffee snob.  Yes, I enjoyed and enjoy instant coffee but I can appreciate and savour coffee which has been lovingly made.  I am convinced whenever I taste a bitter or burnt cup of coffee it is because the maker has lost the incentive to really make a good coffee.

I use a china mug for tea.  I know it shouldn’t make a difference but that morning mug of tea has to be in a china mug.  Perhaps it is all in my imagination but to me it tastes differently.  At this stage, I have slim china mugs specifically for that morning cuppa.  The colour will be chosen depending on the weather outside.  I have always admired the shape of teapots.  There is something happy about a tea pot.  Perhaps it reminds me of the 1939 song “I’m a little teapot” which always made me smile or perhaps the people who had a smile on their face while pouring that first cup of tea.  So, morning ritual is a tea made in a teapot with a china mug.

Throughout the remainder of the day it is the mug of coffee which is the go to.  Many of my mugs for coffee are generous in size.  Either tall and elegant or squat and round; the latter invitingly made for warming the hands even in the middle of summer.  It is my go to mug when heading out to the garden on a cold winters day.  A good friend gave it to me and when I get to the bottom of the mug “another one?” is written and I immediately think of her.

Now I find that my “mug of …” is dependent on the time of day, what I am doing and sometimes who I am with.  Over the years I have acquired a great collection of mugs.  Each has its own story and memory associated with it.  Those memories are equally as important as the brew it holds.




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