The Tea Ceremony

The idea was simple. 26 writers, 26 objects, 62 words each. But with only 26 writers getting the opportunity to appear at the V&A, a new challenge surfaced. How to get more writers involved. The ones outside the chosen 26 who said they wanted to join in. Through 26 Treasures and Beyond we’ve involved more writers. And from Wednesday, their writing’s been appearing on the homepage of this website. Today, here’s a treat from one of those writers. This is a story from Kieron Letts, whose reflection on a travelling tea service takes us into his past life. Over to Kieron.

Here I am based in Melbourne, on the other side of the world from London. But a friend in London – John Simmons - suggested I might be inspired to write something about one of the treasures in the Victoria and Albert Museum. I reflected, whilst clicking randomly through the pages of the V&A website, that it has been a long time since I last visited the museum. A delicate object, found under the appealing title Elegant Pursuits, a Travelling Tea Service from Japan, prompted the following thoughts about my early career in banking.

Tea would arrive on two silver trays. Cups and saucers on one tray. A large china teapot with accompaniments on another. Little sugar treasures or slices of lemon.

Our host would welcome everyone and initiate the ceremony. It wasn’t known as the tea ceremony. At least, it wasn’t spoken of as such. But to me it was always ‘The Tea Ceremony’.

He was a man who recognised the importance of tradition. On the occasion of a visit of the regulator, he used tradition to his advantage. Having welcomed our guests and allowed for introductions, he would encourage us to a seat at the boardroom table whereupon he would ask around the room, each person in turn for their choice of tea. With milk or lemon? He would pour and talk as he brought tea to each guest or member of his team assembled around the long oblong table. One cup of tea at a time.

With calm composure and ample humility, this simple but masterful use of positioning said to our guests, the men in grey suits, ‘I know you are here in your capacity as overseer of our business. But all in good time. You are in capable hands.’

And, ha, if asked for coffee. Well, I swear if he wore glasses he would have peered over the rim with a disdainful look. But he didn’t, so he simply turned to his sometimes able assistant, me, and asked that I attend this particular guest. Coffee was something to be served in the presence of young upstarts and that was fitting for my role.

Everyone had their brief moment, albeit small unless you grasped your chance, to make a little cameo performance in the choice of milk, sugar or lemon; to introduce their voice into the meeting. Only after seeing this ceremony repeated on numerous occasions over the course of my year or so in the presence of the master did I start to recognise the importance of this little piece of theatre. The visible signs of tension subsiding and the acknowledgment of being in the hands of an experienced and capable host. Of course, not all felt this way. There were always the young pretenders; fidgeting, shuffling their papers and betraying their impatience. I learnt not to intrude. The master would call upon me when needed. If only to serve the coffee.

I remember being in the American poor equivalent of this ceremony. A breakfast meeting at which one of the young pretenders sent his “OJ” glass careering across the table to the evident dismay of the ‘global’ master. But that’s another story.

Now, can I condense my thoughts into 62 words?

- Kieron Letts

See Kieron’s piece live today. Right here.