How Do You Take Your Tea?
"My dear Willie," said Wolfgang one day, "I really need to take up a stretching regime to increase my flexibility. These porcelain clothes just don’t allow me the movement I’d like. And I’m tired of my teacup being attached to the table."
Wilhelmina always inclined her head just so. "Yes, Wolfie. I know I’m looking forward to detaching this one from my hand! And that wretched gold lining is just so ostentatious. If only grandfather hadn't been so enthralled by porcelain and the late Empire style. We could've had a fashionable functionalist villa and cubist tea set instead of this stodgy old porcelain. But you know, we can’t just trash his décor. And anyway, it would break his poor little porcelain heart if he knew that we didn’t appreciate how he did up the verandah."
Wolfgang sighed in resignation.
One day two roving gypsies came by. "Play us a tune," begged Wolfgang. "We’d be happy to," they said, merrily baring their glistening white teeth. They struck up a frottola and things were very happy, even though the rhythm was a bit stilted and brittle. "Our glass instruments do not resonate very well," they explained.
Sooner or later Wolfgang and Wilhelmina decided to drown their sorrows in drink. To make sure their plan was not discovered, they purchased a set of matching "Jules Verne edition" cups and saucers. Everyone thought they were drinking tea. There was not a speck of blue on it, and it was loads of fun. "I say, we can tell when we're going to run out because there's a porthole in the side of the pitcher!" enthused Wolfgang.
"One lump, or two?" asked Wilhelmina.
I guess I was reading Threadbared too much a few days back. These porcelain figurines are in a shop window of the Moravian Palace on Divadelní street (just off Malinovksého náměstí).
Tags: discursions, brno, porcelain