Teabagged

Earlier today I was sat in Pret A Manger*, drinking tea and reading the latest issue of Smoke – A London Peculiar. With a start, I realised I’d completely lost track of time, and was due back at work. As my tea was only half-drunk, I replaced the lid so I could carry it safely back to the office. This meant the teabag, which I had previously placed on top of the lid, was now sat, drooping and seeping, on the tabletop. I felt a bit bad about this, so I picked up the teabag, intending to chuck it in the bin on the way out. But when I got to the door, there was no bin to be seen.** Momentarily, I dithered in the doorway, then, not knowing what else to do, walked out into the street carrying a magazine in one hand, and a cup of tea and a soggy teabag in the other.

I immediately felt deeply foolish. I looked around desperately for a bin, but couldn’t see one. Why would any sane person be carrying a used teabag down the road? I blushed. I had to walk for a good 40ft until I found a bin and could dispose of said teabag. My face reddened with every step. “Who is that shambling fool with the teabag?” For shame! It was me!

* I know, I know, they’re part-owned by McDonalds and therefore evil, but there were no seats in the first two beverage vendors I walked past
** There would’ve been a bloody bin in McDonalds, that’s for sure.