Proper Classy

Say it like this: Prah-pa Clossy. Then you are.

In the spirit of good blogging, I am willing to tell stories that make me look like an idiot in order to entertain you all. You're welcome. This story is set in classy Cornwall.... (cue flashback wavy lines and harps...)

Phyllis and the Cream Tea

Whilst on holiday in Cornwall, I decided it was high time I sat down to a proper English Cream Tea. Finding a cafe advertising said tea, I went in. When I made it to the front of the queue, the cashier lady was down the counter at the till with the previous customer, so I waited patiently like a good British Folk should for her to return. A man behind the counter was in the middle of scooping ice-cream into a blender, when he suddenly looked up and said "You all right there?" That usually equates to "How are you?" or a similar greeting, but the way he said it was more demanding, like I was doing something weird that needed to be addressed. "Yep. Just waiting for my turn to order." "Well?" the man asks impatiently. I guess I was supposed to have assumed that he meant to multi-task by taking my order while he scooped and blended, even though he hadn't said anything or even looked up at me yet.

I ordered the boys some ice cream and a cream tea for myself. I pointed to a row of boxes of tea on display and asked if these were the flavors of tea I could choose from. (They were boxes there for purchase, like, buy the whole box, not these are the flavors we have today. I assumed they were the options I had, the question was more rhetorical.) He stared at me blank-faced for a second then said in a very slow and careful way, "The tea comes with scones, and jam and clotted cream to put on the scones." "Great...(?)" I said, nodding. Then he pointed to the boxes of tea and said, "Which kind of tea would you like? The kinds we have are just over there" (pointing to the boxes I had just asked about.) I refrained from rolling my eyes and shaking my head, picked some tea, and sat down.

I told Jimmy D about the tea man and how he was treating me like I was a very stupid person who didn't understand English. The tea man kept glancing over at me like I was a phenomenon beyond his comprehension. Not in a good way, either. I could understand that if I had actually done something stupid, but I hadn't, so I was kind of bugged. He brought over the tea and scones, and on the saucer was a tiny, light brown sugar cube. I hadn't seen a brown sugar cube before, but assumed it was something trendy or organic or whatnot, dropped it into my teacup, then poured my tea over it. The man, who had been watching me closely from behind the counter in a suspicious way, came over to me and said (loudly) "That's not sugar. That's fudge. I can bring you some sugar if you'd like."

Crap!!!! I wasn't supposed to give him a valid reason to assume I was just another stupid American tourist! Darn you pretentious tea man!!! Why couldn't you have just let me sip my fudgy tea in ignorant bliss! Sigh.

"Oh... well.... no thanks..." I said, fishing my fudge out of my teacup as the entire cafe looked on.

There you go. Proper Classy.

(Note the look of deep concentration on my face. I had to be sure not to do something else to further discredit myself, like spreading jam on my teacup or eating the cream with a spoon or anything.)