Polly put the kettle on--we'll all have tea

My lunch guests offered this electric tea kettle to my other guest, but she did not need it.

“I’ll take it,” I said.

When I was in Geneva, I had a wonderful translucent blue tea kettle that gave up just as I was moving. Colour wise it would have been wonderful in my kitchen.

Because of space I had been reluctant to buy a kettle, although I had considered it off and on. Since I almost am never in a store, I had not been tempted even in my non no buy years.

This morning I got up and filled the kettle. I had forgotten how satisfying that little click is when an electric kettle goes on and then when it goes off.

Certain tiny things of daily life give me conscious pleasure: the bluebirds on my china lined up because of the concentration of colour, sinking my hands into hot sudsy-sudsy dishwater on a cold day, closing out the dark with my quilt-lined curtains on a cold winter night—well you get the idea.

I think of all the British TV shows I’ve watched and books I’ve read and for almost any situation someone says, “I’ll put the kettle on” or maybe ‘I’ll put the kettle on’ if the book is published in the UK.

Now I can put the kettle on. So much better than a pan of water on the stove.