Tasty Tasty.

Well hello.

A brief interruption to the especially prompt and up2d8 INDIA TRIP Blogeration.

This Sat we did a tasty sesh at Olive n Bean in Newcastle. Very pleasant it was too. Though it was very hot outside, and no one really wanted to taste tea, no matter how delicious it was. Lovely to meet those of you who swung/swinged by. Those who wish to purchase a refined selection of our many many teas can purchase away at 17/19 Clayton Street whilst sampling their super sweet treats and wonderful lunches.

We are working on a mega proposal for the building of our dreams. We won't be counting our chickens this time around though. Oh, no-sir-ee we wont!






Zero. We have Zero Chickens.

We once did though. But they ate the neighbours' vegetable seeds. That infuriated the neighbours, and they let their lividness out on our poor mum, who was never really a chicken lover to begin with, and this certainly didn't help the cause. So we had to get rid. I am not sure if we did that by method of ingestion or eviction.


The next India Update is nearly finished, if anyone gives a hoot.



Wishing you love, prosperity and lashings of comic sans.

More Trip. Slowly But Surely.

Day 3

And yes, we slept. Oh boy did we sleep. Oh Blimey. Oh Riley. At first it didn't happen. It was too moist. And hot. Moist heat. Mmmmm. And i got bitten, by an animal. Itchy moist heat. But then when it did, it was a slumber and a half. Woke up some time in the 'noon, and spent the rest of the day buying beauteous watches, sandals and sunny g's whilst generally soaking up the insanity. In note form-

Vimto Spray (great btw), 'You want drugs? Hashish huh?', Government owned trees have a thick band of white/red painted on them so people don't make a fire with them - 'Government Tree, Government Tree, you can't touch me 'cos i'm a Government Tree', Ginger delish chai, Pat got some jeans, First Cow, sugar cane juice (Made on nearly every street corner. Squeezed with a touch of ginger 'n' lime. Though heard a story of a lizard that got caught with the cane during the juicing process, and killed 30+ people.), semi-unsuccessful train ticket booking in gorgeous, mental Victoria Terminus, Curry lunch (Sam had a toasty), WADA PAW (Mumbai's signature street food. Deep fried and battered thin potato slices, rammed in a bun with chilli/chutney), Chowpatty beach (filth, tacky, enjoyable), Bizarrely placed death metal gig, Cricket at the maiden (mumbai's huge grassy area), Sam threw a cricket ball and woop! the locals loved it, nearly run over numerous times, back to hotel, watch a bit of friends (you know? that show about those quirky comrades residing in NY who drinka da coffee), shit sleeps all round, killed a flea in bed (possibly the animal that was biting me).








Day 4.

Woke at 4am to get our earlyyyy flight. The hotel kindly organised an overpriced taxi driven by a complete nutter who, after driving as fast as humanly possible over bumps that made your head hit the roof, had the cheek to presume that we were tipping him, despite the fact that the ride was a rip off in the first place.
'Where's my substantial change?'
'Baksheesh, Baksheesh'
'Ermmm, no.'
'I'm a fast driver' he giggled like a twunt.
'You dont say? I think my bitten tongue, white knuckles and broken spine can confirm that. You shall receive no tip from us, mate.' Etc, etc.

Bizarre flight, Mumbai-Bangalore-Kalcutta-Guwahati, that's 3 take-offs during one flight. With each take off you got a free bottle of water, as if taking off causes thirst to spike. More gosh darn irrepressible panpipes. Oh well, the flight was cheap. Also, we were blessed with a hot stewardess, who looked like Norah Jones (TOPICAL TRIV - Wor Norah is the spawn of Ravi Shankar, the most famousist sitarist in the WORLD) Guwahati is in Assam, and isn't particularly lovely. It has some nice Ghat-age. But where doesn't in In-D-R? Usual chaotic sensory overload whilst organising/waiting for our bus to Kaziranga. Bought a kilo of the mediocre-est ctc tea for a mere 3 spond. That's the kind of tea one would use to make a chai. More on CTC tea in the not too distant future (that's right, we're gunna get educational on your ass). Also purchased some Thums-Up (sic.), india's answer to the question of 'what shall we call this bizarre mix of Coca Cola and Betel Nut?'. So we got our bus. It was to take a reasonable 5 hours leaving at 3 pm, meaning we were to arrive at a reasonable 8 pm. From there we would meet our kind hosts who would guide us to check in to our ONLY pre-booked lodgings of the trip, have a sleep, then get up early for safari galore. Did that happen? No. What happened? This :-

Got on 4pm bus, snacks in hand. Turned out to be 5pm bus, snacks consumed. Began the bumpy bumpy ride. Then promptly halted the bumpy bumpy ride due to traffic jam. 2 hours of shuffling along at walking speed. Until i decided to go for a wee. Then suddenly everything started moving. I cannot perform under pressure. So whilst attempting to mark my territory on the base of an unsuspecting tree, all engines were ferociously brmming into action, people were jumping through moving doors, shouting at each other to hurry up. Not a drip was exiting me. Not a drip. Not a drip. In fact it felt like my liquid was retreating. Droplets of stage fright. Every second that sauntered by felt like an eternity. An eternity of sauntering. Whilst people's cries for me to jump back in the Bouncy Bouncy Bus peaked, a different tactic was adopted. I thought of panpipes. Fucking relaxing panpipes. I weed. Jumped on bus.

BUS



We three slept for a few hours, on 'n' off. Until somebody announced at midnight that our arrival in Kaziranga WAS IMMINENT. Alert. As getting on/off a bus is a stressful task to say the least. Turned out IMMINENT meant nearly 2 hours away. So at 2 am we fought against the aggressive quartet who were competing to take over our 3 seats. I would like to say we took their ignorant, idiotic, selfish pushings in a light hearted manner, but actually they just pissed us right-royally off. Off the bus skedaddled. We were left in a bizarre dusty silence after nearly 10 hours of bumpy bumpy juddery bus action.




Technically this is Day 5 BTW. FYI. IMHO

So here we are. By the side of the road. In Kohora, the village guarding the entrance to Kaziranga National Park, where the largest population of one horned white rhinos reside, in deepest darkest Assam. At 2 am. Everything closed. No lights on. No people. The occasional bus/truck chugging by. No clue as to where our reserved beds are. Just 2 massive plastic rhinos for company. Obviously our hosts have given up on the idea of meeting us. So, What To Do?



First things first. Go 'ermm' a lot. Wander around in attempt to find someone, anyone, to ask either 'where is our hotel?', or 'do you own a hotel? If so, can we stay in it?'. No dice. So, we jolly on down the pitch black 500m stretch to the Tourist Complex, with only our previously bought watches to illuminate the path (Sam's and mine are suitably called 'Maksun Illuminators',- illuminating was what they were born to do) At the end of the road, we found a light and lay down under it. Sam with his enviable camping mat. Us with only our fatigue to help us sleep. Noises of invisible monkeys rustling, mega moths frantically fluttering and the occasional barking gecko. It was pleasantly warm. We would love to describe the feeling felt. But, we dont think we can. Glorious.



In our semi conscious state we were introduced to funny smiley night shift man on his way to deliver chai to the early rising safari goers. We explained our situation, and after he had completed his morning tasks he kindly ushered us to a not particularly pleasant 20 bed dorm, with instructions to present ourselves to the day manager at 9 am. There were no sheets, and 9 am was a mere 4 hours away. So we decided to walk to the larger of the lodges and enquire as to availability of chai. Got it, outside. Sun rise was disgustingly perfect. As were the monkey's that decided to perform for us.



The crescendoing jungle wildlife noises added to the magical atmosphere. Pretty heavenly. Kitchen opened an hour later. Poached eggs on toast x 2, Fried eggs on toast x1 + lots more chai before meeting with day manager and agreeing on being moved to a beautiful 1 bedded room (big bed). Nicer than any other room i have seen in India. It was most large, cool, with a wonderful balcony looking over the Kaziranga Complex, and the most incredible tree we've seen (think Ferngully), with a sanitised bathroom and running hot water. And what's more it was cheaper than the hotel we were meant to be in.



Moral of the story - a horribly delayed bumpy bumpy bus leads to many a wonderful experience. Or every cloud has a silver lining. Or when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Or none of them. I can't think of the perfect one. I think there is one though. Signing off.

Current QB goings on/going ons.

Right, here's some real juicy Quilliam Brothers goss, as it has been a while. It has been a while for a valid reason though. It would've been a bit pointless to have a blog containing 'errrrr, we dont know what's going on' with a pic of us shrugging. We have been riddled with uncertainty. Numerous factors have caused this reticence, but to summarise, it is all down to the question of premises. We have been putting most of our energy (4.75 joules) into a particular property. Blinded by how ideal the building looked and generally WAS internally, we refused to consider the factor of its location. For those who don't know where it is, just imagine the place you would LEAST like to be at 2 am on a friday night/saturday morning in Newcastle City Centre. I am not saying this would make the tea house fail, as its success has always depended on loyalty, and the small detail of location shouldn't be that huge an issue when your customers are loyal. But, in the end, it was too large an issue to completely ignore. So we have decided to leave it be for the time being, and hunt down some more locations, this time with extra knowledge and a secret weapon in the form of Mr X (N.B - He's not really called that, though i very much reckon he's considering a change as it sounds so mysteriously cool. And signatures would be a doddle.). Mr X is helping us no end. He's one of those Chartered Surveyor chaps which we kind of knew from day one, but never asked for his assistance as we, like most normal people, hadn't a clue what the flip a chartered surveyor's function was. We still don't really. Despite numerous explanations. But we DO know that he knows stuff about buildings that mere mortals can only dream of knowing, and is a lovely man to boot. So we are appreciating the assistance no end.

There is a lot of intense discussion* happahappening at QB HQ these days. The buzz words being RISK, COMPROMISE, EVOLUTION, STAGNANT and TEA. Referring back to the previous observation of our Boots Meal Deal choices, i can tell you that our intense discussions are productive, provide food for thought and allow for grievances to be aired in a healthy way. We are very different people despite the whole similar genes thing. And that is GOOD. It is much more preferable to have ideas flying left right and centre (and occasionally colliding and exploding) even if you have to spend time and energy sifting through them, than to have a festering pool of one opinioned bleurgh.

So, what CAN we tell you about the project? The tea side of things is going very well. Part of the hypothetical success of the Quilliam Brothers project has always been about the tea. Our palates are refining (ha!), our knowledge is increasing, we are learning what the tea trends are, how to market the tea, how to make a perfect brew and how to make it all look and sound pretty. We will be stocking a few reputable shops in town and other places, giving away some free samples outside of unis, getting a permanent place at a market or two, and generally making the name recognisable. The web shop is probably nearly finished, though we have been saying that for a while. I have given up on estimation, as I'm always very wrong. So let's just say with great uncertainty that it is possibly slightly ready. With the tea house, our goals haven't changed, only the realisation that things take bloody ages, and impatience is not a virtue. We have the same amount of enthusiasm as before, and WILL succeed in providing a well run, adaptable, personable place to art in, music in, eat in, study in, drink in, film in, cosy in, read in, etc.. or something, but it WILL take a lot longer to finally get there. But when we get there, boy will it be froody.

*Arguing

That is all for know. Here's the first cuppla days from the mega trip.

Day 1. We had the afternoon to kill in Lovable London. Tiddled around at the National History Museum, which was great even though the Blue Whale was cordoned off. Also spent some time at the 'not as great as we imagined it to be' science museum. Plane, departing late PM from Heathrow. Fanny around with Oyster cards before jumping on one of them tubes. The Piccadilly one to be precise.



Checked in after unloading knives and !DANGEROUS LIQUIDS! into hold luggage. Jolly on through to departure lounge. Do customary airporty things. Buy 2 cups of tea. PG tips - tasted of plasticy fish, or fishy plastic. Expensive. Milk in tubey thing. Great development in the milk storage arena there. Lots of people buying lots of things. Are they mental? Probably.

'Richard. Richard? RICH? RICHARD!'
'Yes Darling'
'There's a cashmere scarf over there for only 55 pounds! And a bottle of perfume i dont need that's usually 35 pounds! But here it's 34 pounds! I think i'm going to buy them with my pounds! I want to spend my pounds!'
'But, we are going on holiday to the Caribbean darling, Cashmere scarfs will probably not be needed. Not to mention the fact that you brought 3 other fragrances with you for 2 weeks of what will essentially be sitting on a beach.'
'But we are in an airport. An AIRPORT! I cant not buy anything. Something in the air makes me want to own EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING. Could i have your wallet?'
'Ok Darling, as long as you get me something gadgety.'

Board, three in a row, in the middle aisle. 8 Hours to Muscat in Oman.



Aeroplane food is weird. It all tastes/feels the same, whether chicken breast, pasta or omelette. All got menus. 'A La Carte' dinner offering - Veg Penne Gloop, A wedge of rubbery Cheddar, 2 crackers, and some delicious chocolate mousse-y cake thing. Then tea. Tasted similar to our QB Indonesian offering, IMHO. Breakfast was very strange oily pancakes, chicken omelette, muffin and a croissant (except they forgot to give me one). Great movie selection. Me - Twilight New Moon (secret fetish), Law Abiding Citizen. Chubs - 500 days of Summer, 50% of District 9. Sam - Law Abiding Citizen, 50% of District 9. All of the movies were horribly censored, hence only watching 50% of District 9, as the last 50% consists of mostly the f word. Wonderfully so. Instead of 'fucking crazy', which was clearly mouthed in 500 days of summer, she went 'absolutely berserk'. There was some snoozing. But only some. And some chess. But only some.

Day 2. Landed in Muscat at something-confusing-o clock. Very air conditioned. Very shiny floors. VERY shiny floors.



Lucky enough to witness legman - he's 80% leg, but 100% man. A rough sketch to illustrate his wonderful anatomic arrangement.



Me and the hijab-ed shop assistant shared a giggle. Nice, moments like that. Dont know her from adam, and never will, but for a brief moment we shared something. Albeit suppressed hilarity at a man with ridiculous legs.
By what we saw, Muscat doesn't really come close to getting the juices flowing. I have since looked at images on the World Wide Web, and it looks ok, though somewhat manmade. From the aeroplane, however, and as far as the eye could see from the airport, there appeared to be little else but dust/sand/the occasional watered, manicured lawn until the flat arid landscape hit some equally dusty/sandy/arid mountains. And looking at the postcards on offer in the airport, Muscat contained nothing but camels, bendy daggers, and snake charmers. A Costa coffee house was there, as was a Subway sandwich establishment. YAY! Bring on the western chains! Caught our first glimpse of the wonderful Indian Flare Craze. Which is just hitting them, 40 years after they appeared in Engeeland - More on that later. I got scared with the foot washing in the bathroom, so failed to go about my business. Sam snoozed on the highly polished floor having failed to squeeze under the armrests of the chairs.



He also wanted to own a kaftany thing. A la Dizzy Gillespie (that's actually a boubous i think, not a kaftan. But same sort of thing) We held him back as he strained to enter the airport 'look like a local' shop. Efficiently boarded the next plane, and jetted off in a Mumbai-y direction. Pan pipes caused a lot of mental stress, as they wistfully tooted in and out of ear shot throughout the entire 2 hour journey. I think the idea is that they are there to make you relax. But nothing, NOTHING, in this world makes me more likely to cause damage to something than monotonous panpipes. I would consider bringing something explosive onto that plane, not to damage the people (though that would probably be an unfortunate bi-product) but to destroy the panpipey music. Oman Air's color is a sort of metallic blue. It's very nice, though it's branding to the MAX. Now, a bit of branding is healthy and effective. But boy do they push the Oman Air Blue. They are a brand new company, and generally did a good job of getting us to our destination. Everyone was very pleasant, and the ride was groovy. Got us discussing what it would cost to start your own airline. Seeing all the tankers, drivable stairs, buses and other airport vehicles with the Oman Air stamp on. Lots of bats was our conclusion. But if they went bust, they could sell it all to Isle of Man Air, as they would only need to paint an 'I' at the beginning of Oman.

This brings us to landing in Mumbai. Shantaram is, in a lot of ways, a great book. Emilee Emilee Emilee agrees not. His description of landing in Mumbai is pretty spot on. This is the second time landing at Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport, and the feeling was the same. I dont know if it's the calm before the storm, the nervousness caused by the impending whatever, or just because it's the first taste of india, but the moment you step off the plane into the fatigue inducing blanket of intense whoomphy heat, a tingle of unparalleled excitement whistles through you. The smell of Mumbai is the most incredible thing, and hits you immediately, and will stay with you forever. Unless you have anosmia. If you do, don't worry, baby's heads are over rated. From there we hastily changed a small amount of pounds into Rupees, and were guided to a taxi which we could easily have found on our lonesome. And so began the 3 week constant offering of assistance/services that we in no way would ever need, and were expected to pay for. The taxi ride was a fantastic introduction to India.



Chubs was instantly spell bound with the smiley men on mopeds, beepy horns, smells smellier than the smelliest smells you've ever smelt, sugar cane juicers, big pans of mysterious frying things, over fly-overs, under fly-overs, in between elaborately decorated trucks, past men selling dangly metallic packets of unknown from nearly ruined houses adorned with polished pepsico signs, arguments, camaraderie, folks carrying hessian wrapped packages 4 times their size on their bonces, beautiful beggar girls wearing their dirty best dress, bicycles, mopeds, scooters, rickshaws, tuk-tuks, posh cars, shit cars, taxis, buses, trucks, pedestrians, buffalo drawn carts, all competing for every cm of road space that becomes available, slums, super delux tower blocks, abandoned concrete blocks, fish markets, meat markets, veg markets, street markets. There's a lot to take in. It's wonderful.

Arrive at hotel. Walk into the A/C-ed reception. Once the door closes there's a bizarre separation from the chaos just outside. Quoted outrageously over priced room, despite knowing the staff from last time. Got a cheaper room by agreeing to shove a mattress on the floor in a double chambre. Mumbai is expensive, comparatively. Showered, then changed from not so suitable travel garments to a light linen trou and airy t shirt combo. Ordered first chais (delish) and lots of water. Then out to the mayhem again. Walked to the Gate of India.



Nice chat with photo man, with whom we had our first cricket craic. Saw the blowed-up hotel.



Went for first curry. mmmmm.



Mumbai always delivers on the culinary side of things.

Walked to the ocean, sat on the wall by the sea, Marine Drive. Contemplated our bizarre where-abouts in silence.

Taxi to hotel.

Chai.

Shower.

Bed.

Returning is as pleasurable as leaving.

Three weeks have passed. More than, in fact. And, oh, what a more-than-three-weeks they have been. We have done our fair share of sweating, bus riding, tea tasting, toilet sitting, photo taking, tout ignoring, curry consuming and rhino spotting. But admittedly less than our fair share of sleeping, washing, shaving and blog updating.

The love/hate relationship with India has deepened. Never was there a moment that we just sat down and concluded that what we were spectating was 'O.K'. Spectacular and rancid. Stunning and feral. Magical and repulsive. Wow and bleurgh. If anybody claims to have left India with only sunny memories of their experience, then they are UNTRUSTWORTHY, and probably insane. You can have your heart blindly set on finding your spiritual epicentral whotsit all you want, but even with your third eye closed, you can't help but see filthy things, be repulsed at hearing a fully grown man ram sticks down his throat to clear his stomach of a morning, or feel helpless after witnessing the scale of the heart wrenching poverty, or get livid when rammed 3 to a seat for 18 hours in 45 degrees driving past mountains of raaancid rubbish at 10 mph on dusty, carbon engulfed roads that are as flat as our lovable Jordans chest. Yes, yes, it is all part of the experience, and it couldn't be any other way. It is addictive. It is traveling at its best. But it's still, sometimes, bloody horrible.

And i really mean addictive. In the way gambling is addictive. You love it for the highs. And you can only have a huge high after a massive low. The lower the low, the higher the following high. It is worth the massive bumpy bus ride, and the sweaty back breaking hike just to find yourself on the back of an elephant as the sun rises, staring at one of the few wild rhinos left in the world. If you can call protected in a national park, wild. Which i dont think you can. But let's, just so we can feel a little better about ourselves. As it's scary how much space we humanoids are taking up. There's alot of people in India, to be sure. 1.2+ Billionish. 30 million in Mumbai alone, with some people saying an extra 20 million havent been counted as they are address-less. Every day nearly 19 million people travel on trains (thankyou India Rail for that stat). That appears to be a sickening amount of people. And it is shocking how over populated it feels. But it's 20ish times the population of England, and 25ish times the area of England. Meaning density per km sq in England is higher than that of India. Unbelievably enough. I have a theorem or 3 as to why this appears so though -

Theorem 1. Maybe it is the fact that here life is neat. Trim little gardens, neatly parked cars, buildings efficiently housing many a considerate person, quiet polite activities, well behaved queues, strict rubbish collecting, silent unassuming logistics, all encompassing super markets, all working hard to hide human acitivity. In india, there it is. In your face. Big piles of rubbish, beds and settlements on the street, hundreds of people waiting on the train stations for hours and hours to board a train you have to squeeeeeze on to, big fuel guzzling noisy horn beeping traffic, ear piercing distorted music, weddings by the side of the road, people buying stuff from the shops upon shops upon shops upon shops. -You see human life everywhere you look. Even riding through miles of paddy fields, there'll be a man taking a shit nonchalantly next to the busy train track as if there's no other place on the planet to go, or a happy fella selling whotnots by the side of the dirt track as if he has discovered a new business hot spot, or a group of guys joyfully washing their buffalo herd in one of the last remaining water holes of the summer. I guess there's no difference between that and happening across an intrepid rambler in the Yorkshire dales, or passing a lonesome Tractor being piloted by a beardy farmer in the depths of the West Country. But, in India, it just seems more real, more human.

Theorem 2. Roads, and rail tracks attract people in India. In England, when selecting a route, one generally chooses the big, zippy motor ways, which are hidden away as much as possible. This allows us to go fast and make lots of engine noises and smells without pissing anyone off. No body wants to live next to a main road. So when on a journey, you will pass fields and little else 'til you hit the city. But traveling through India, there are no choices in which roads to take. You take the road to somewhere. And that road brings possible business opportunities, cheap, easy deliveries from other towns and cheap, easy links to other towns. So all along that bumpy road there will be shops and eateries and houses and people and animals and biff baff bosh

Theorem 3. Perhaps the last Indian census missed out a fair few people.


Now 3 weeks isn't a long time to be away. But boy, by the end, did we miss the home comforts. This can be waved off by the more hard core travelers as just plain pathetic. But 'Mega Bus Syndrome' is REAL. It is the concept of how ever long the journey, the last chunk of it will be fraught with impatience and the desire to be where you are going, NOW. 18 hour train journeys. The first 15 hours are fine, but the last three seem to take longer than the previous 15. The 7 hour Newcastle London MegaBus Slog. First 5-6 hours, not a problem, but the last hour - aarrrrgghhhhh. The same with long trips. 5 month super trips. The first 4 months + go by in a mostly joyful blissful whistle, but the last couple of weeks are just painnnful. The first 2 and a half weeks of this trip was simply fantastic. Nothing really pissed us off, made us miss home. But the final days, i could not wait to be in my big fluffy bed, eating warburtons toast and marmalade whilst watching Bargain Hunt with a big jumper on in relative silence.

Feeling uncomfortable in an unfamiliar environment is an essential, wonderful part of anyones life education. It changes you, and the way you look at everybody and indeed everything. But to appreciate the effect it has on you, you have to come home. And that feeling of coming home, is unbeatable. Just make sure you dont forget what you felt whilst away. 'Who never knew the price of happiness will not be happy.' Wiffle Wiffle.

Night Night Chaps. Tomorrow will follow tea house and general Quilliam Brothers news, and the beginning of the long task of blogging the trip. With a focus on Tea. After all, Tea is why we are here, why we were there, and was only mentioned once in this installment.

P.S. Try saying 'blog' as if you're Harold Bishop in a tiz, it makes the use of the disgusting word a little less repulsive.

NOW

Wow, a LIVE picture! Internet on a train! Photo taken on a PHONE! Isn't the future wonderful?



Yes, we are on our way. The first leg is in motion. It has begun.

It has been mentioned that we work well as a team because we each bring something different to the table, be it opinions, light snacks, or ideas. Nothing illustrates this more than our Boots Meal Deal Choices. I had previously consumed half a Meat Supreme pizza, so didn't partake. But IF i wanted to, i would have chosen a Chickeny wrap as my main item, packet of meaty crisps as my snack, and an orange juice as my liquid. On this here london bound locomotion, Chubs is to my left in front of me, in seat 21, with a Shapers Egg and Cress sandwich (i know, i know), a tub of olives, complete with pointy stick, (i know, i know) and a sparkly fizz water (i know, i know). Sizzle Quizzle in number 22 has a ham and cheese and pickle sandwich, Shapers still raspberry juice with a hint of apple, and an oat crunch yoghurt. It is rumoured that there are as many Boots Meal Deal combinations as there are Rubiks Cube arrangements (49 quintillion-ish), or used johnnies on Whitley Bay Beach, so maybe it would be worthwhile including a trip to Boots in Military recruitment, or psychiatric diagnoses - it would probably give more insight into their psyches than showing them this...




Walking boots, 2 minnows and a toasty maker next to a mirror btw.


The craic is relaxed, the mood is optimistically excited. I forgot my goddam oyster card, and Chubs could not locate his prescription sunny g's. Apart from that, swimmingly is how things are going.

We fly in the PM tomorrow, so have a jolly day in London ahead of us.

Hope you are all well,

from the Three Muskatears

The tea-rip of a life-tea-ime.

We are heading to India on Tuesday.

Here is the planned route-

Arrive Mumbai. Hang oot for a couple of nights before catching our flight to Guwahati Assam (we wussed out of the 60 hour Train Marathon, as we gained 3 days for spending 40 pounds on a shneaky short cut via the sky). There we shall see some rhinos. And ride an elephant or 2. Then we stay on a tea estate for a couple of days, learn things, until we feel the time is right to catch a train to Siliguri (Far), a toon at the base of the Mahabharat Himalaya. Brmm up to Kurseoung (not far), where we will stay for a couple of days and see a Darjeeling tea estate run by a wonderful man. Compare the differences. Try and act knowledgeable, that sort of thing. Pat will have his birthday, and we will put a candle in his brew. Then we go all the way to Darjeeling (not far) on the ever so charming steam train, where we will appreciate the stunning views and availability of Apple Pie, because by this time we will all have digestive systems of questionable stability. A short 2 day hike in Sikkim (not far), a RESTRICTED AREA, that you need a SPECIAL FORM to enter. From there, we will brmm back down the hill, catch a train to Varanasi, be spiritual for a bit, or at least watch people being spiritual, then catch another train to Agra, where we will run to the Taj Mahal, gasp at it's awesome-ness, before jumping on another train and chug to Mumbai. One last night of Mumbai Madness, then on a luftywagon with 50kg of tea, back home. Via Oman. Fin.





We are so excited, and cant wait to bore everyone with our photos and tales.


Tea house wise. There is proverbial light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. We have resolved the planning issue of where to keep our refuse. Never have i felt closer, and more in touch with bins. So we can FINaLLY FIIIINALLY put in our planning application to change the building from offices into a super delux teahouse-cum-artfest-cum-cinema-cum-smallscalevenue-cum-restauranty thing. Woop de woop! It will be a while still. And apologies, sincerely, for the irritating delay. Web shop is still getting tweaked also. The skeleton is there, just right now it's a skeleton that behaves very oddly indeed. So, sooooon you can actually buy some of our fantastic tea from us, which will be great as with each day that passes, our stock gets less and less because we drink it all. That's why we're not running a Haribo shop - we'd be bankrupt within a few days. And toothless. But i wouldn't eat the milk bottles or cola bottles. I would sell them. Kerchinggggggg.

Right. Signing off. See you when we return. Though i may do a shneaky blog from India, he says raising his eyebrows. Though it'll probably be a sloppy blog.

A Test! A TEST!

A blind tasting test has been executed.

Aim : To find the one Breakfast Tea to rule them all, one Breakfast Tea to find them, one Breakfast Tea to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.

Hypothesis : We were somewhat nervous and could not imagine what the results would be. We very much hoped that there would be a noticeable difference between tea scrap filled bags and quality loose leaf tea, but were not sure.

Method : In the line up - 6 big name branded bagged teas and 4 loose leaf varieties, including our very own Quilliam Brothers Breakfast Blend ©™©©™™™™

Each tea was steeped in boiling water for 3 minutes, and given an official glug of milk.

Each cup had a number on it, which corresponded to a list that only we had access to.

A gaggle of thespians in 60's attire was gathered, supplied with a ballot paper and a pen, and asked to taste each tea. They then wrote down their top 3 teas and any comments they had.

We brothers found it surprisingly exciting, and very much enjoyed the accompanying banter and discussions.

This is the only photo that worked. It's not ideal.



Here are the Results :

10th - Twinings Breakfast Blend (Surprising, as they have a very nice box)
9th - Morrisons Organic (Organic DOESN'T mean good?! You learn something new every blog)
8th - Coop 99 (disappointing oh you ethical coop you)
7th - Ringtons (Aaaaaa, the good old days)
6th - Yorkshire Gold (Lots of people said it was too nnnghhhh, chhhhsshhhh, and other mouth noises)
5th - Pumphreys Loose Leaf Breakfast Blend (Great tea, great people)
4th - Tetleys (booo)

Medal Positions -

3rd - A Good Hungarian Tea House Blend (which we believe is almost identical to our tea.)
2nd - QUILLIAM BROTHERS BREAKFAST BLEND
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.
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1st - Our New Super Delux Surprise Delish Blend (name is currently under discussion)



Conclusion : We were testing ONSDSDB as it was something a bit unusual. And to our delight it was received positively. But the thesps did mention that despite it's deliciousness, it wasn't very suitable for a builders tea as it was a touch too light and there was too much tea-y flavour. Which we very much agree with. So we will be selling it, but as a brunch tea, or evening tea, or elevensis tea, or something. We will let you know.

Yes, yes, those tea giants Tetley's did well, but we figure that's because its the most widely drunk tea, and people are used to it, and maybe have nice associations with it, or something. Not that it's not delish, as it is. In fact there is a gargantuan sack of it right next to me, as we are Tetley's supporters through and through. Generally though, the loose leaf teas got the top spots. Go Joe Public!

So even though we got the silver medal, it was to a tea that was decided cant really pass as a breakfast tea. We are relieved, as it could have gone quite embarrassingly wrong. Mind you, i wouldn't have posted it on here. I would have attempted to erase the painful memories and cried myself to sleep and bought a sports car to boost my self esteem and picked a fight with a small person, who would then beat me up, steal my sports car and drive to a cafe to have a cup of whatever tea was victorious. Which would cause the fading painful memories to return, and it would all begin again.

So there we go. If there are any scientific journals that want to use our findings, all we require is a knighthood or three.

There's more news, but i will make it into another blog entry so it looks a bit more exciting.


Byeeee!





P.S. Albino Squirrel