We are a family on the edge of a rift. It’s only come to the surface recently but it’s serious and I’m not sure that it can be easily fixed.
Let me start by saying I’m right, obviously. It’s summer. As it’s England we do not expect many sunny days so the moment we do we try to fit in all the summer necessities at once. For our clan, that is strawberry cream teas and water fights in the garden. We all agree on water fights – war is tough and dirty – you play to win. Where we differ is the cream teas.
Mum is jam first, then clotted cream. I am cream, then jam. Jam first means the jam sticks to the crumbs of the scone and leads to dry mouth. This is a crime. I know a pot of tea is there to assist but a cream tea should be a treat, not a choking hazard. The cream comes first. Lots of it, like a delicious pillowy cloud of heaven with gooey strawberry loveliness floating on top. Eating a scone should be slightly perilous. There should always be a danger of mess, of sticky fingers, spillage and laughter. That can’t happen when a smear of cream is cemented into place with jam. You can’t laugh as you are too busy coughing.
So this year, while we swelter in a heat wave and have the age-old debate of whether tea is cooling and try disgustingly flavoured lager and cider in an effort to get into the summer spirit, there will be a battle raging in Camp Fizzy. A battle where the tactics will be dictated by those who prepare the scones first. There may be sneakiness, underhand manoeuvres and sabotage but I know cream first will be victorious!