Lewes and my Teapot Emergency

I am told that once a upon a time Lewes had it's own place to go and enjoy a pot of tea with tea-time refreshments.  Lewes with it's Victorian homes just cries out for taking tea or other stronger libations on these wrap-around porches.  Thus it seemed so perfect that my teapot emergemcy happened here, in Lewes.
  I prepared my morning tea in my 20 year old beloved Brown Betty pot.  She is just the right size for myself.  I always lovingy warmed her up before putting in my special hand blended ( by me ) tea and the boiling water.  In fact I look forward to the morning tea almost as soon as dinner the night before ends!
  I picked up the handle and I did hear the softest "whimper".  I set her down.  I picked her up again, and she was gone.  The handle broke off and left a sad  and mysterious looking hole.
  Although I have about a  dozen tea pots almost all are in storage and as well are too big for a small serrvice.
  The urgency to find my new teapot before the sunset was profound and could not be resisted!
 I determined I would only spend $12.00!
  Off to two thrift stores I went.  I did find a sweet Brit  teapot but marked at $25.00.  But  a lower price was not to be.  A new life, a better teapot was out there for me.
  Two stores later, four in all explored, there she was.  Sweetly decorated with Dogwood Blossoms, with a traditional Ming Dynasty form.
  Yes, she was $12.00!
 Relating this story to a dear friend who knows my lifetime tea-obssesion observed the above story is my perfect metaphor.  I am letting go of the old with great love and affection and seeking the new adored sustance and format for the future.
  Lewes, just ask me and we will do tea-time; anytime.

Beach Blessings,

Coffee, Tea, beach-walks, Dad & Me.

Early AM, Dad roused out of bed what ever kid he could to accompany him on outings of beach-walks, breakfast on the boardwalk, and a final stop to buy the paper, groceries and the day's fish.

I was sleepy, but I cooperated. Besides having Dad all to myself, the early morning walks yielded great beach-combing finds and a delicious boardwalk breakfast at The Henlopen Hotel.

We always had a table with an ocean view. How I happily remember walking in, seeing and smelling the sea of white starched cloth-covered tables, with white fat china pots full of the morning percolated coffee. Jam pots cluttered the table top.

Therein lies my "problem".

I'm a tea-drinker! Only estate-tea, hand-picked will do! I keep Assam, two types of Darjeeling, and a Ceylon on hand to do my daily blends. All night I await and look forward to my morning pot of tea.

Upon my return to the beach I did drink percolated coffee! It was delicious. The leftovers turned into iced-coffee was even better. This delight had to be given up upon my heart saying: no way.

Oddly, at the beach for me any type of British-style tea (excepting the herbals which I drink by the gallons), tastes "weak and off". I get by with "PG Tips" tea, two bags to a pot; sometimes doped-up with a smattering of loose Assam.

My only explanation is the above story where for me beach-side early mornings demand coffee.

Once in a great while in the morning I find myself near the ocean/bay and coffee! Once in a while I let myself have not even 1/4 cup with some milk. Glorious, glorious it is.

It is not me.

Yet, it is my youthful palette that never drank the coffee, saying a happy !YES! to youthful Summers gone by.