You thought I was talking about myself didn't you? Old, short and fat?
Well, not this time, I'm talking about this little adorable little 2-cup teapot that I found the other day in the cupboard under my sink, right at the back.
This little teapot is 45 years old.
It was given to my mum and dad as a wedding gift in January of 1966 and it somehow made it to South Africa when we emigrated from Scotland. It made through all the times we moved house - and we moved a lot - 5 times while I still lived at home and I've carried this little teapot to 7 different houses of my own.
It's a little bashed and battered, but it has made it this far and now my three year old plays tea-parties with it. I should perhaps take better care of this little treasure, seeing as it is older than I am.
Respect your elders, the saying goes.
It brought back memories of my mum making "stewed tea" with real tea leaves on the stove. My mum used to boil water, pour it into this little teapot with the leaves and then put the teapot on the stove to boil up again. The tea was like fucking tar.
I now prefer my tea weak and, god forbid, DON'T squeeze my teabag against the side of the cup! I guess this stems from mum's "stewed tea" and the bitterness of her tar-tea.
Anyway, thought I'd share the story of my little teapot.