Showing posts with label tea. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tea. Show all posts

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

Tea clipper



‘Is the Keppel wench there? Fine buttocks she’d got. But — tea! I’m eighty-eight next May, and I attribute my longevity to an almost total abstinence from tea. Except the jasmine variety — used to drink that out East . . . ’


Mr American, pp.188-9, Pan Books, paperback edition 1982.


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Wednesday, 13 June 2012

No, hardly



I didn’t doubt he’d called me a coward, you understand, but it ain’t the kind of thing a fellow says by way of social chat over the tea-cups is it? “Ah, Lady Flashman, delightful weather, is it not? And did you enjoy The Gondoliers? Such jolly tunes! No, I fear the dear Bishop’s health is not what it was . . . by the by, did I never tell you, your husband’s a bloody poltroon who ran screaming from Isa’Iwana? Oh, you hadn’t heard . . . ?” No, hardly.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.265, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 6 April 2012

Beef tea, rump steak and beer



Hutton brought a brisk sawbones who peered and prodded at my stitches, dosed me with jalup, refused my demand for brandy to take away the taste, but agreed I might have a rump steak instead of the beef tea which they'd been spooning into me in my unconscious state. I told Hutton to make it two, with a pint of beer, and when I'd attended to them and was propped up among my pillows, pale and interesting, he elaborated on what he already told me.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.162, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Tuesday, 20 December 2011

You bloody vandals



      My first thought was, why, you bloody vandals, I don’t shock easy, and have no more of the milk of human kindness than you’d put in a cup of tea; I’ll taunt and gloat over a fallen foe any day, and out a boot in his ribs if he sasses back — but I’m a brute and a bully. These were your upstanding pillars of society, bursting with Christian piety and love thy neighbour, and here they were, shaking their sanctimonious heads as they harassed and goaded a seemingly dying man… They even had the effrontery to argue and hector him, now that he was beat and helpless — I’d have liked to see ’em argue with him eight hours back, when he was standing up with his guns on.


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.339, Harper Collins, 1995.


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Monday, 21 February 2011

Speak civil



...I had to crawl the whole damned way, dragging those beastly irons, and staring at the reflection of the naked, bearded wretch in the glassy floor beneath me. Hollo, Flashy, old son, I thought, bellows to mend again, my boy, but you keep going and speak civil to the gentleman and you'll get a sugar plum at tea.


Flashman and the Dragon, p.204, Fontana Paperback edition, 1986.



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Thursday, 21 January 2010

And a pound of tea



…if I’d been the Sirkar, she could have had Jhansi and a pound of tea with it, just for half an hour on the daybed.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.82, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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