Sugar, officer?

I don't think I'm on my own when i gauge my decision on whether to accept a cup of tea or not based on what White goods are rotting away in the front garden before you've got to the front door.
Tea is such a British tradition. We love the stuff. When someone offers you a cup of tea, etiquette dictates that you make an instant decision based on what you've seen / smelt / touched so far. You need to remain polite as you say 'ooh no thanks, i've just had one' through gritted teeth, not telling your 'host' that the actually the last one you had was 9 hours ago at briefing. I have a golden rule when it comes to tea...if I'm not averse to touching the soft furnishings, I will accept an offer of tea. Anything else I will gladly remain sat perched on the edge of the sofa, gagging for a cuppa really but unwilling to take that chance.
Some people go the full hog. Last week I visited a very nice family in a pleasant part of town. They had all been subjected to threats from a local neighbourhood thug who was carrying a knife. CPS had decided to drop the threats charge to a public order offence. Not enough evidence you see, no knife was found. The family decided to not go to court due to the fear of retaliation and 3 of them were giving me retraction statements. As I sat there and explained the process, Mrs Nice offered me a cup of tea. I had already decided that tea was definitely in order if offered. Mr Nice was a, erm, thoroughly 'nice' chap. He explained to me his fear for his family testifying and explained that he had an unusual surname which wouldn't be too hard to track down if it all came out. Mr Nice was also an airline pilot and spent much of his time away and feared for the safety of his beautiful wife, four lovely daughters and home. Mr Nice had been thoroughly let down by the criminal justice system and I did sympathise with him. I had planned to try and persuade him otherwise but when I saw how frustrated and upset he was I decided to help him the best way I could.
Then I heard the immortal words 'cake, officer?' before I had time to protest a slab of luscious fruit cake was placed next to my steaming cup of tea. Heaven, I thought.
Mrs Nice explained that it had been Millys birthday last week and they were trying to eat up all the cake. I done my best to assist, was offered some to take back to the station for the rest of my shift, but I resisted....

I sat with the Nice family for best part of an hour, listening to them talk about their fears and how they felt let down. For my part I had two cups of tea and some really moist fruit cake. The cynic in me tells me that the tea and cake may have been a ploy to win me over, get on their side. I genuinely think they were being great hosts, awfully British and showed a man in uniform the upmost respect, when the system he represented had failed them tremendously. We also talked about airbus v Boeing, and how the airbus is fly by wire or something. Anyway, it matters not, it was great cake.

PS I lied about resisting but don't tell my shift.


-- Post From My iPhone