Indian tea is the best

A few years ago, before we were married, we went to Goa in India. She paid bless her, she knew it was somewhere I’d always wanted to go so she treated me; not sure what I’d done to deserve it, or what she might have felt guilty about.

The flight that lasted seemingly forever, the bumpy landing on what felt like uneven tarmac and the slowest passport control queue you could imagine did little to dampen my spirits. I was like a little kid.

We took a taxi to our hotel during which we were held up by a cow meandering down the middle of the road. Cows, being sacred in India, think they can take liberties; I told the driver the sodding thing wouldn’t get away with that down our way, they had manners and stayed in the fields where they belonged. The driver shrugged, “What can you do?” was his reply.

The day we arrived it was election day across India, this shouldn’t have affected me because I’m not eligible to vote there, but affect me it did. Apparently on election day in India the locals get a bit more involved than we tend to. There were far too many instances of them getting liqoured up and fighting outside the polling stations; taking the side of which ever party they supported. I told him it would certainly spice up election day in Britain. Then he drops the bombshell, the consumption of alcohol was banned across the entire country on election day, in order to curb the violence.

“WTF!?!?!” I cried pitifully, provoking consternation from her ladyship. I’d just been up in a plane for what felt like a lifetime, I wanted a beer. I was gutted, you know what it’s like when you are desperate for a cold one. I needed it, I deserved it but my dreams were crushed.

We arrived at the hotel, it was really nice. I won’t go into detail because I can’t even remeber the name of it or the town we were in. We dropped our stuff off, had a quick shower and as it was already evening, we headed for the restaurant which was beside the pool.

The waiter came to our table and I asked him if it was true, this awful news that I had heard. The waiter confirmed it, he was awfully sorry but the law is the law. There was nothing he could do. Crestfallen I ordered a pot of tea, as my better half doesn’t drink she ordered lemonade.

When he returned to our table, the waiter laid out a china cup and saucer and asked if I’d like him to pour. I agreed with a sad little smile which broadened when I realised that the “tea” had a head on it. My saviour had secretly filled the pot with lager and was pouring the golden nectar into my delicate china cup. I looked up at him, he winked and said “shhh.”