Category: B of B Original Posts

Many of us on Twitter know Vic Darkwood, the possibly pseudonymic chap who was an early promulgant of The Chap magazine. Whilst he’s not a Beast of Brewdom, he is often referred to as The Beast of Dartmouth Park, and so rates a mention.

I am currently reading Vic’s book “How to Make Friends and Oppress People – Classic Travel Advice for The Gentleman Advernturer”

It has some astonishingly poor advice on making tea – reprinted from Francis Galton’s The Art of Travel (1872) which seems to recommend,  of all things, an eight-minute infusion.

However, such foolishness is not what has driven this entry.

In his own words, Mr Darkwood has described the humble teapot thus:

“Mother Nature, despite some notable design classics such as the banana, the three-banded armadillo and the young Jean Shrimpton, has yet to come up with a form as compellingly beautiful and ergonomically sleek as the teapot. The rotundity of its body – pregnant with promise, the pleasing arabesque of the spout and the jaunty effeminacy of the handle earn it a special place in the British psyche.”

An exceptional description, I think.

 

 

Most people turn to tea because of health reasons, caffeine concerns, memories of their grandparents, or some other wholesome reason.

Mine began because of sex.

Here’s the story (i.e. click on the highly suggestive root):

Regular readers of my own blog will know that I’ve spoken about various historical figures in tea from time to time.

Here’s a quick word about Robert Fortune

TANGENT: Some people would see Shen Nong as the ‘Original Man of Tea” I say NO! For two reasons – one, he had his servants boil his water for him – what real man would do that? – but more importantly, he’s supposed to have discovered immortality.  A few months ago I challenged him to nip around to my house and prove it, and so far, not a word.

But back to Fortune.

I have spoken of him a few times on my blogs. But thanks to the wonderful book “For All the Tea in China”, by Sarah Rose I now know exactly how many tea plants he stole from China. And to use an exacting term I’m fond of, it was a shitload.

Imagine having your head shaved by an illiterate, sulking, skulking oddball, sewing a ponytail into the back of your head, dressing like a Chinese Mandarin – albeit a tall, white, big-nosed, round-eyed one – and taking off around the countryside – where you are forbidden to go on pain of death – with guides that make Gordon Gecko look like a Home Economics teacher.

Then you spend three years stealing thousands of national treasures.

He chased off pirates and did all sorts of other swashbuckling stuff.

Amazing. manly man! Imagine if he’d stolen Lapsang Souchong as well, he’d probably have been made King. They even named the kumquat after him.

Now, as to the book, it’s set off thoughts of a conspiracy theory which I explore on my own blog.

But Robert Fortune, I raise my cup of Pai Mu Tan and salute you!