All of Kensington… in Paris
In her Parisian living room on the rue de Courcelles, Margaret Ashford perpetuates each morning the unchanging ritual of her ancestors. A peaceful matriarch, whose accent remains delightfully British despite decades spent in Paris, she swears only by Earl Grey "as it should be," sourced from“at Betjeman’s”,brewed with precision, softened with a drop of milk, and savored in the silence of the morning, punctuated by a sigh of contentment.
Beneath the high Haussmannian ceilings adorned with moldings, she settled herself facing the French windows overlooking a paved courtyard. The rays of dawn filtered through the Calais lace curtains, bathing the Wedgwood tea services, carefully arranged on the mahogany console, in a golden light.Jasperwarecobalt blue,Wild Strawberrywith wild strawberry motifs, or even the mythicalDancing Hours, danced by Greek silhouettes.
The morning ceremony
Every day at precisely 9 o'clock, Margaret sits down in her Chippendale chair. facing the marquetry tea table, she confidently places the porcelain teapot on the table. The white teapot adorned with freshly boiled Tudor roses, the patinated silver milk jug inherited from her grandmother, and the Wedgwood cup and saucer with cornflower motifs. The tea steeps for exactly four minutes.,Never again, never.