
Two Mugs and a Bit of Peace…
Yesterday I sat at my kitchen table with a proper mug of tea, not one of those delicate cups you have to pinch with your fingers and drink like you’re in Downton Abbey, a real, weighty mug you can wrap your hands around.
It struck me that the best company isn’t always the kind that shares your bloodline. Sometimes it’s the neighbor who pops in because they “just happened to be passing” (which is code for I had a feeling you needed a chat).
We talked about nothing and everything, the weather, the garden, the price of milk, all the important things that knit a day together. Not once did the words will, land, or entitlement cross anyone’s lips. No suspicious side glances, no veiled digs. Just honest words, shared laughter, and those silences that feel like a warm blanket rather than an empty space.
And I thought… this is the family you choose. The ones who don’t measure their kindness against what they might get in return.
Blood may be thicker than water… but tea is thicker than drama. And tea shared with the right people is thicker still.
So here’s to the ones who show up, kettle in one hand, biscuits in the other and remind you that belonging isn’t about surnames or signatures on a legal document. It’s about the feeling that you can let your guard down, take a deep breath, and be exactly who you are without fear of judgment or ambush.
Because when the inheritance squabbles, old grudges, and manufactured crises fade into the background… It’s the simple moments over tea that are worth holding onto.
And as Granny Frass would say, you can keep your family feasts, love… I’ll take a quiet cuppa with the sane people any day.

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