Heather Evans Editorial

This week has been a difficult one, but I always knew it would be. With final year coming to a end, handing in my dissertation (that I love and hate simultaneously) along with a 3,000 word essay on the thrilling topic of evolution was never going to be my cup of tea. After about 1000 troughs of varying caffeinated drinks later, I can say, at last, that I handed them both in on time. I even have a little bit of confidence and faith in them as well, but I’m mostly glad that I have no control over them anymore. Scary stuff.

However, this week was made unimaginably more difficult in my self-absorbed mind when I got the news on Monday that my dearest, fiery Little Gran died over the weekend. Getting the call in the early morning, it didn’t seem real because I had been living in my stressed fuelled bubble, where the only bad thing that could possibly happen was if I didn’t get these assignments in, or [insert something that could go wrong about my deadlines here]. I knew my sisters were in pain, and I was too, but I had to shake it off. I had 4 days until the most important day of my university career, and I couldn’t let anything, not even my beloved Gran’s death, skew my vision. I repressed those feelings, and moved on.

My family kept ringing me, along with my boyfriend, to check I was okay, but the truth was I had to be. I had no choice. I spoke plainly and practically about my loss, saying the cliches that ‘she is out of pain’ and ‘she had a good and full life’, which she did. I’m glad her suffering wasn’t prolonged, because the inspiring and amazing woman I knew didn’t deserve that. That didn’t mean I couldn’t be sad or grieve. I thought I had to be a ‘grown up’ and that’s how adults deal with things.

Thursday came along, and after a sleepless night I got my dissertation bound and handed it in. I could now relax and have a great time in the pub, and see my partner properly without either of us being worried about our independent projects.

That evening was the first time I properly cried about losing her, and it was a long time coming. Like a cup of tea, it had been brewing (see what I did there?) and I couldn’t contain it anymore. I will miss her so much, even if it was her time to go. Forevermore, I know I will celebrate her memory, and I know she wouldn’t want me to cry. But I still need to.

The next day, I went to town and gave myself a well deserved break from university work. After having a lovely chat about my nan the previous night, I thought that I had my release and I was going to be okay now.

Back in December, my friend showed me this gorgeous tea shop in Birmingham city centre called Char Wallah. They have EVERY kind of tea you would want to feast your eyes on: green, herbal, fruit, rooboos, black, white, and even flowering tea bags that bloom when you brew them. If you want it, they have it. It’s a lovely, family run business, and the owners are simply some of the nicest people ever that are willing to help you to find the perfect tea. It’s my kind of haven.

However, they moved their business and I couldn’t remember the name of their shop. For months I have had a Char Wallah shaped hole, wishing I had bought more tea from them before they disappeared from my life.

When in town yesterday, I decided to go for a wander and explore the little side streets that lead off from the main high-street, and then my partner goes: “Look Hev, that’s a nice shop.”

Glowing with an imaginary halo, alas it was Char Wallah. I was speaking so fast to my boyfriend, exclaiming this is the tea shop, and we have to go in.

They have completely redone the place, and it was just as adorable as I remembered it. With the option of either buying their loose leaf tea or sitting in, it has a tranquil and calm vibe, like a tea lover’s paradise. They sell loose leaf tea, but they also sell matcha kits, as well as lovely essentials like tea-pots, mugs, and strainers which are not outrageously priced. You can buy the tea either in a bag or caddy, with the 100g/50g bags averaging around £7 and the caddy is an additional £2. If you don’t know what you want, they provide you with an extensive and helpful brochure to ensure you purchase the right tea, and they have a magnetic wall with little pots of the tea so you can try some or just smell their fragrance – drinking it with your eyes in a literal sense.

We went over to have a look, and after smelling a few my eyes were drawn to one that was called ‘Grandma’s Garden’. The tea itself looked so pretty, being infused with red berries and blueberries. My gran adored flowers, and we would always buy her a flowerpot and seeds for Christmas so she could grow her own in her flat. It sounds stupid, but I felt like it was a little bit of fate playing in my life. For her, I chose it.

My first thoughts of me having a cry and burying it all under the carpet was never going to last. Grief is not something you cry out and then its gone; it’s a process. Really, it never goes away. Grief just changes. When I left the shop, I held back a few tears, but they were mostly happy. I feel like she is still looking down on me in her own way, and that felt comforting.

Now, the tea. It’s lovely. It has a sweet smell that fills the room with the memory of spring, and it was great to have when the sun was shining through my window. It looks pretty, and it tastes pretty great too.

I know that my Gran is and was so proud of me, and drinking this brew for me weirdly soothes the pain of her passing. The warmth it brings really is like a hug in a mug; almost like one last hug from her. She was always one of my greatest teachers, and I know from this week I’ve been taught the lesson that I can’t, and no one should, repress their emotions to act big. We all need a little cry sometimes.

Happy drinking, and go and try Char Wallah!

Hev xo