Spilling the tea in Stratford

Sandy listening intently during tea time.

It's a drizzly day at the farmette. Going to 20C though. Unlike yesterday, when I had to haul out my winter coat because it was so cold. Again. On May 23rd.

Crappy weather can't dampen my penchant for road trips, though. Sister Sandy found out about this series put on by Stratford Arts and Culture called Spilling the Tea.

For one price, folks can get a formal afternoon tea, including savouries (smoked salmon, brie, pancetta) and sweets (a tea biscuit, jam and a square), as well as tea and coffee, of course. The main event was an interview with, in our case, author Heather Marshall, and a copy of her latest book, Liberty Street. We went on Tuesday, and it was a packed house at The Bruce Hotel.

Marshall is warm, poised, funny and knowledgeable, having published three historical fiction books. She's also very down-to-earth.

She told the story of how she found out that her first book was a bestseller from a phone call while she had oatmeal in her hair from feeding her son and was washing her golden retriever who had inconveniently rolled in the mud!

She explained her writing process which begins with a lot of research and ruminating, then a bolt of inspiration (she described it as an electric charge), followed by a bit of planning, but mostly feeling her way through the actual writing.

She even signed a bunch of copies (including Sandy's and mine) after the event, and Sandy took this photo of me with her. I look a little pained because just as we were chatting my phone went off with an emergency alert warning of possible tornados in the area!

On the way home, of course I had to point out every cloud that looked like it could funnel and Sandy quipped about seeing flying cows. While we didn't thankfully encounter anything, the London area really was hit pretty hard.

So it's another week in the books. Thanks to Sandy for finding out about the event, and for driving. So grateful for these opportunities. Until next week.

Gratuitous cat photo courtesy of 17-year-old Bea, up on her 'throne'.