Attempt 2 at writing about rituals for a writing exercise, this time with less rambling and more Britishness.
In my family, the kettle is the most important appliance in the house. Sure, there are ways around having a kettle, but the convinence of it is something that pulls us all together. Because in the morning, we make tea. Mum comes down first, getting up early as she does, and puts the kettle on to make the morning round of tea. Then the day can begin. A cup gets taken up to Dad, and if I feel like tea there’s always some in the pot for me.
Then we get to the mid-morning cup. Elevenses it would traditionally be, something to bridge the gap between breakfast and lunch. Whether coffee or tea, it usually presents an opportunity for me and Mum to talk about various things as the kettle boils. Then depending on the weather, the kettle gets used again for a nice hot drink to go with lunch.
On some days, there’s then the afternoon cup. Something to have before I go up to work, or to sit with at my computer. When it gets to evening time, with various people coming home, the kettle begins its chores again. A pot of tea is made for drinks before, during and after dinner. The cups are always arranged in a certain fashion, and its orderly nature is something nice to come home to. The kettle can rest then, until the evening, when it provides another point for me to come and talk with the parents as it brews, for a hot drink in the run up to bed.
Tea, cocoa, Ovaltine, or even coffee. It seems a strange thing to have in the hours before bed, but both of my parents, and now myself often enjoy an evening cup. Then, just as the house is winding down, all the cups come back to the sink to be washed, any excess water in the kettle is emptied out, the switch on the wall socket is flicked off, and as the lights in the house go off the kettle is left to sleep, ready to start again the following morning.