I read this twice. Once to fully appreciate the etiquette of biscuit and tea serving at the AA, and then again so I could revel in our writer's dedication to the service, and their militancy as a result. I laughed out loud at times, then cried and then rushed to the biscuit tin for support.
I have enjoyed every word, purpose and utter joy that this act of service now provides to our author.
Hard to add words to what others have already written, but this was such a fantastic piece I felt I had to.Yes, please keep up the writing, you’ve had us laughing and crying at the turn of a sentence.
This moved me — the idea that a table of biscuits and tea, however humble, becomes a place of care. "I did not think I deserved kindness or a biscuit." That line undid me a little.
There's something universal here: how setting out a cup for someone, remembering their order, is its own quiet language of love. I write from the south of Chile about tables and what happens around them, and this is the heart of it — that the smallest offering, made with attention, can hold someone together. Thank you for sharing this, even anonymously. Especially anonymously.
I love when something like this, so removed from my own life experience, makes me feel so much. I laughed, I cried, I felt proud of Anon and I wish them the best
And you’re so right, that intense, controlling energy just needs another outlet. Unleash it on a project and you’re a genius (unleash it on another person and it’s abuse).
Thank the Lord for the sanity of biscuits and shared kitchens. Sugar is the poor man’s ssri.
I read this twice. Once to fully appreciate the etiquette of biscuit and tea serving at the AA, and then again so I could revel in our writer's dedication to the service, and their militancy as a result. I laughed out loud at times, then cried and then rushed to the biscuit tin for support.
I have enjoyed every word, purpose and utter joy that this act of service now provides to our author.
P.S. I am partial to a fig roll myself.
The best biscuits. People unfairly lump them in with garibaldis
Soooo true!!
(Although I do have to say, I am partical to a Garibaldi too!)
Fig rolls are a unique biccy that deserve special bragging rights, as far as I'm concerned!
A very good read thanks. “A parish council run by former wreckheads” 😃
Hard to add words to what others have already written, but this was such a fantastic piece I felt I had to.Yes, please keep up the writing, you’ve had us laughing and crying at the turn of a sentence.
Lovely
This was charming, sad, hilarious, and beautifully written!
This moved me — the idea that a table of biscuits and tea, however humble, becomes a place of care. "I did not think I deserved kindness or a biscuit." That line undid me a little.
There's something universal here: how setting out a cup for someone, remembering their order, is its own quiet language of love. I write from the south of Chile about tables and what happens around them, and this is the heart of it — that the smallest offering, made with attention, can hold someone together. Thank you for sharing this, even anonymously. Especially anonymously.
I love when something like this, so removed from my own life experience, makes me feel so much. I laughed, I cried, I felt proud of Anon and I wish them the best
This was wonderful- hilarious and poignant. Thank you
Joining the laughed, cried, loved club of this essay. Please pass on both the high fives and hugs to the anonymous author! 🧸
Absolutely loved
A wonderful piece of writing. Thank you!
Loved this X
A great piece of writing - funny, poignant and quietly very affecting thank you.
Thank you for this piece 🙏
So beautifully written (and hilarious / devastating all at once). Thank you x
Lovely read. Thank you.
I came to know myself while reading this.
And you’re so right, that intense, controlling energy just needs another outlet. Unleash it on a project and you’re a genius (unleash it on another person and it’s abuse).
Thank the Lord for the sanity of biscuits and shared kitchens. Sugar is the poor man’s ssri.