A little tea and scone break for one at two? I do believe so. In fact, let’s dive in, shall we?

The tea is lusciously served with an ample bowl of cream and a full jar of sugar. We call that Irish Perfection.

The wifi is ….. non-existent ….. but the company, well, the company excels. To be honest, wi-fi is a full-fleged conversation stopper, though quite possibly not for the Irish.

There’s something to be said for a room full of men and women — well actually, 18 women and three men — all talking animatedly at once. I hear the chatter of course, as the Irish are nothing if not friendly and joyously, perhaps even more than joyously, animated, but with my quite minimal hearing, I understand not a single word. Of course it could be the accent rather than my ears. We’ll call it a tie.

But before I go further, let me just say that there is nothing, not anywhere on this planet or the next, that stands up to an Irish tea.

And if you’re hesitant to agree, let me just offer these thoughts:

The tea is hearty and brewed right in front of you.
The cup is a perfect size — large enough for a good hand-warming, but never large enough to cool down.
The teapot is small enough to lift and pour easily.
The teapot handle accommodates two fingers perfectly, plus a third finger for balance.
The spout is small, and therefore doesn’t cool the tea.
And the creamer, that deliverer of luscious decadence, has an aptly bounteous mouth best used for pouring straight onto the tongue,
(though sadly frowned upon by servers and seat mates alike).

And when I’ve swallowed it all and licked the last dribbles down the sides and swirled my fingers to caress the final drops hiding in the crevice, I sit.

I sit and feel the warmth that moves from tongue straight down my legs and makes me want to snuggle tight against my love, or the dog, or an errant wanderer,

And thank my lucky stars for tea and scones.