Tea In Bed

Every morning, I make Dr K a lovely cup of tea and bring it to her in bed. I do it because I'm an awesome boyfriend.

But yesterday I thought I'd have a bit of a lie-in.

Shouldn't be a problem, because Dr K lies in at the the weekend too. Really late sometimes. And if she was in a lying-in competition, she would totally win. She's a pro. Hard-core. She's so good at lying in, in fact, that she often lies in right through the optimum tea drinking period and ends up with a stone cold cuppa.

Enough about Dr K's Pro Lying-In though, and more about my lie-in.

There I was, lying-in and having a thoroughly lovely time. It was maybe nine o'clock. In was all snuggly and warm and fast asleep. And then I was rudely awoken.

'Hey baby, are you going to make me a cup of tea?'

At first, I thought it was part of the delightful dream I was having. You know the one where you're flying through an Indian restaurant. Like this:


A demand for tea seemed a bit incongruous with that image though, so I dismissed it out of hand and went back to racing poppadoms through clouds of onion bhajis.

'Are you going to make the tea?'

There it was again. This time it woke me up properly, so I said some naughty words which, paraphrased, went something like this: 'No, my precious darling. I regret to advise that I am not, in fact, getting out of bed to make you a cup of tea.'

And then I went back to sleep again.

About an hour later, I got up and made some tea. Dr K was fast asleep and didn't drink it.

Fast forward to this morning and I was aiming for another serious attempt at a lie-in and I heard the voice again. Only this time it wasn't demanding anything.

'I'm going to make you a cup of tea, baby,' she said.

And she did. She's lovely, she is.