Yesterday, at a bakery in West Brompton (more about that later) I met a special someone for the first time. His name is Earl Grey. As an American, I would like to think that making it to 22 without having met Earl is not so unusual. In London, however, I am quite exceptional in this regard. At any rate, my first meeting with Mr. Grey is one that can best be described with a cliché, "Love at first taste".
This love affair couldn't have come at a better time. The weather is changing here in London, fall is just around the corner. And after 3 weeks of constant foreign-germ bombardment, my immune system has given up the fight. Earl Grey with honey, or, as is more traditional, milk and sugar, is a wonderful companion in times like these. Today I enjoyed a proper English snack: crackers, cheese, and Earl Grey.
I must admit that every time I plop a bag of it into my mug, I think only of this scene from one of the greatest movies ever made. My mind's narration says the words "Earl Grey" in precisely this tone of voice and I smile every time. These thoughts are always followed by ones of Lindsey, the wonderful friend who introduced me to this film. (Thanks sweets!)
