Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, and who amongst us is feeling a little eleven o’clock ish? Well, say no more, step inside, pull up a chair…or…crate of lemonade and make yourselves at home in Max and Collin’s perfectly private and exquisitely exclusive parlour located in the splendidly scenic city of Lancaster, Mor Ire.
True, perhaps, some have called it a rat-riddled room in an abandoned fish factory that is ravaged by Liver Birds and liable to be infested by plague at any given moment, but we consider that such people are merely embittered that they have not yet received an invitation.
Upon this wet and wild autumnal morning, you find us shamefully still wrapped in our dressing gowns and huddled around the soft glowing warmth of our divine teapot, waiting the arrival of our werewolf butler with elevenses. I say ‘werewolf butler’, which is what Max calls her, but only, you know, when she is out of earshot.
This morning we are enjoying Darcy’s Delight; a deliciously dark oolong brought to life with orange zest and exotic osmanthus flowers, available from one of our favourite tea shops, Friday Tea. It is just the thing to raise the spirits during this dead season of chills and inclemency.
Ah, now Klapka is here with the tray! She isn’t really a werewolf, of course, any more than I am a squid or Max is a Very Quiet Gentleman but, as Max says, throw enough custard pies and some will stick…and Max is, of course, very good at throwing pies. Now let’s see what delights she has for us to combat this tentacle-chilling weather…
Mmm treacle tarts, click the picture for the recipe which is so quick and easy you’ll be done in four minutes! Truly there is no better comfort food than a treacle tart and a nice cup of tea.
All that is needed now is some eleven o’clockish music to tap our tentacles to as we tuck in… something nostalgic perhaps that will remind us of our time in The Sunken City…
Splendid, perfect entertainment for a chilly Tuesday morning, and now as we sink our suckers into these treatsome tartlets there is nothing left to do except wish you all a much warmer afternoon than we are likely to suffer here and invite you back to join, not us I’m afraid, but our dear witchy friend Mrs Albert Baker in her soup kitchen tomorrow. Myself and Max will be back on Thursday with some tantalising Tea At Three so, until then
Be always, Utterly Yourself.