A Festive Afternoon Tea Party
On Sunday, thanks to my own personal door-to-door chauffeur service (I call her "Laura" and always fail to tip)*, I got to enjoy my first ever afternoon tea. I know! And very grand it was, too.
Laura and I had heard about the festive afternoon teas at The Beach Ballroom and assumed, because they are pretty, sparkly, elegant events, that our heavy metal other halves would take a bit of convincing to come along. Silly us. "Cake?" they said. "Tea?" they said. We were to count them in.
(How beautiful is this room? And how creepy are those sugar tongs?!)
We sat down to three tiers of cakes and a list of available teas. Staff in old style blacks and whites were circulating with trays of sandwiches. We were told just to ask if we wanted any more cake (I was going to write "fancied any more fancies" but I'm not sure if that phrasing makes sense outside of Scotland?) - and we most certainly made the most of that!
Between my first caffeinated drink in goodness knows how long and the sudden influx of sugar, I might have been a tad hyper. I'm a little scared to ask my friends; this is how I imagine people feel the morning after a night of heavy drinking - "Was I really that shrill?"
Anyway, I loved the whole event and I would swear to make it a Christmas tradition if the whole of next year wasn't so up in the air. I definitely plan to go back.
And, oh, I'm not sure all of that sugar is out of my system yet because the narrator in my head (my blog posts totally have a narrator; she sounds like me) is talking so loud and so fast that this is starting to sound like some sort of paid advertorial. Which it's not. Although that would be lovely. And, incidentally, if any Aberdeen venues want to give me money to eat a lot of their cake (or, frankly, just cake that I don't have to pay for), I am always open to offers.
*I feel like I need to put a huge amount of emphasis on the fact that if I left the house, somebody was driving me door to door. I'm worried about people reading this and thinking, "Oh, what a skiver! She's obviously fine!" I'm not fine but I can do the five metres to somebody's car, the five metres back and a little bit of sitting in between (but only for an occasion so special that it's worth having a flare up the following morning).
Hi! I'm a 30-something stay-at-home feminist mother-of-one. I live in Aberdeen, Scotland with my toddler, boyfriend and two black cats.