Off milk

I'm a big tea drinker, and a really big Vimto drinker.
I suppose I have Vimmy when I need something cold to drink, and a cuppa any time that I dont need a refridgerated beverage. I plain and simple LOVE Vimto. Back in the day, me and my elder brother would always fight over pop in our house. We both had a penchant for fizzy drinks, and would always argue over what flavour to get, sometimes even coming to blows over the matter. So our mum solved the problem, she went to the supermarket without us, bought whatever was on offer and gave one brand to Daniel, and the other to me. From what I recall, Dan got Sprite, however I got given Vimto... From that day onward, I have exclusively drank the Vimmy, and enjoyed every sip, glug and resulting burp.

But there is my problem, I know why I like Vimto, I have a story to it. However Ihave no idea why I am so fascinated with tea...

There is something to be said about a tea drinker, such a quintessentially British trait, however, I believe myself to be far from quintessentially British, so its nothing to do with my perception of my heritage.
Neither my parents, or my siblings are big on tea, so it cant be anything to do with my upbringing.
Apparently, tea drinking is more of a northern thing, but I'm from the west mids, so there is nothing strictly geographical about this trait of mine.
The only other person I know to be as committed, yes, thats right, committed to tea, is my friend Joxa.

But he is from the north.

As you would expect a drinker to, I like to keep a healthy ammount of tea bags in the cupboard and a bottle of milk in the fridge at all times.
I've had a long day, a long weekend actually. I awoke on Saturday at 06:30 to go to Wolverhampton for some skateboarding magic time, and I had a cuppa before I left at 6. It wasn't until I returned home, at 5 in the afternoon, did I make a brew. Thats around 11 hours without ingestion of tea... It was touch and go for a while.

By the time I'd got the first sweet, sweet sip of tea to my lips, I was sweating profusely, talking to myself and having mild hallucanations from withdrawal symptoms.

Before departing for town this afternoon, I had already had 3 mugs and got one when I was in town. When I arrived at my parents for dinner I had a cup waiting for me and had one after dinner also. I got home from my parents, full of roast beef and mashed potato, put the kettle on and got ready to settle down on the bed, watch a couple of movies, and more importantly, drink plenty of tea.

I had just set off downstairs before Bladerunner came on...

As you can imagine, I put a teabag in my XL Tigger mug, 2 sugars, hot water and stirred. I went to add the final ingredient, moo juice, when I came upon that familliar sour odour that only off milk makes. 'No matter' I exclaimed aloud to reassure myself, there would be more in the fridge.

Imagine my dismay then, when I opened the fridge to discover... NO MILK

I could have cried. A curse passed my lips, what was I to do? After all, real tea has milk in it, I couldnt just drink it black.
Just as I was about to close the door, something on the top shelf caught my eye. Synapses firing, the thought came rushing back to me, only 2 days ago was I mashing potato, I didnt want to waste milk on potato, so I used the only other thing I could find in the cupboard...

Condensed milk.

I've never had condesed milk in my tea, I cant say that I even wanted condensed milk in my tea... But its not like I had a rational choice. It was either condensed milk in my tea, or no tea, worse even, if I didnt have condesed milk in my tea, it would be a waste of 2 sugars and a teabag.


FUCK

THAT

NOISE


From what I can gather, condensed milk is mostly used in cakes and sweets, and considering this fact, the tea wasn't all that bad. If a little too sweet. But at least I learned from this ordeal, and any situation you can learn something is a positive one indeed.

From now on, I'm going to keep some UHT in a glass cabinet, with 'Incase of teamergency, break glass with supplied spoon' scrawled on the side...

Im not much for cute, but...

2 days ago, my girlfriends daughter, Ruby, helped me make cottage pie. I say helped, the only thing she did was make a mess whilst trying to help me mash the potatoes. Plus she poured frozen peas on the dog, something I'm sure he didn't appreciate.

At 6:30 this morning Ruby arose, needed rusks and attention... Plus I needed a cuppa.
We got downstairs, looked out the kitchen window to see a blanket of fog.

"Look Andy look. The sky is been mashed"

Kids, god love 'em.

Konichiwah

So, I suppose I should say hello, or something to that effect.

Hello.

So what do I do now? Any ideas? Why am I typing this? Nobody is going to answer me. I'm sat in a box room, with my sleeping dog on the bed next to me. The house is empty other than myself and my dozing canine, and possibly a handful of insects.

So I'm stuck, on my own, without a clue in the world of what I'm supposed to be blogging about.

I must apologise, I've never been the sort of person to 'blog'.
The reason being the term itself, 'blogging', its just never caught on with me.
All I see it as is a diary, an online account or story of your life, or as it appears, my life from here onwards.

A written depiction of the events which occur in my life.

So there it is, did you see what just happened?
Both you and I just did something we have never done before, or ever will again.
You just unwittingly entered my life. And I, unwittingly (and possibly even unwillingly) entered yours.

Isnt that pretty cool? Kind of like in Jumanji, when those kids were playing with that infernal board game. They didnt intend to summon up hell's southern hemisphere, but they did it nonetheless, and brought Robin Williams along for the ride. Now, I'm sure Robin was happy to be out of the jungle, but happy to be back in the real world 20 years later, surrounded by all the same shit he's dealt with for the last score? Doubtful.

So, its me and you kid. Welcome to my life, wipe your feet on the way in.


I can only presume that you ended up on this page by choice, or you stumbled upon it by accident, either way, you are STILL reading this 'blog', and from that I can only assume that you are enjoying it, or reading it under duress... I do hope its not the latter.
'So who are you?' I pretend to hear you cry. My name is Andrew Scott, I'm currently 25 years of youngness and I live in Coventry in the UK.

If you need further details, it would probably benefit you to go to my myspace profile;
www.myspace.com/vimtokicksass

Or, just look for me on Facebook, search for Drew Scott;
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/profile.php?id=512030240&ref=nf


Thanks for reading, I'll keep you posted.


Drew.