No Tea For You!

KK has been itching to go to the Wenham Tea House for a while, now, and on Sunday she finally convinced me to go with her. I agreed to go despite the fact that it seemed like an extremely girly thing to do because she told me that yes, she was sure that they also served coffee. I drew the line, however, at visiting the Wenham Museum's world famous doll collection.

The circa 1910 building, in lovely Wenham Village, houses the tea room as well as the shops, which include a small bookstore, a gift shop, and an antiques consignment section in the attic. It is all owned and operated by the Wenham Village Improvement Society, a philanthropic organization formed in 1893.

Apparently, some of the original members are still running the place.

Sadly, the tea room is closed on Sundays. Well, when we asked, it was closed. You see, KK and I made the stunning mistake of wearing jeans. We had on nice tops, cute shoes, our hair was neatly brushed and our fingernails were clean. But the dungarees were a big mistake.

The little old ladies of the Wenham Tea House acted as if we were members of a girl gang. They struggled not to make eye contact while also watching to make sure we didn't steal anything, set fire to the place, or try to kidnap any small children.

I bought something for my cousin's son, who will be turning two soon, partly because it was so cute and because I love him madly, but also just to prove to the tea house ladies that I wasn't indigent.

As we left the building, a gaggle of ladies--none of whom were wearing anything even remotely resembling casualwear--pushed us off the walkway and headed inside for tea and a fashion show. The girl gang was not invited. We went back to my Neon, with the wet nose prints on its windows, and tried to exit the parking lot without hitting any Jaguars.

And we almost succeeded, too.