Anyone for a cup of tea?

I have a primal need to put the kettle on everytime I get in through my front door.

It doesn't matter if I fancy a cup of tea or not, though usually I do, but I always go to the kitchen first, fill up my lovely shiny kettle, and light the hob. The kettle has a whistle and the interval before it whistles lets me go to the loo, look at my plants and wind down. When it has done its magic and whistled, I'm properly home. It marks the line between the outside world and my little domestic zone.

My kettle obsession is largely unshakeable even if I actually want a cold drink or a glass of wine. Once the kettle has whistled - like a hypnotist bringing me out of a trance - I am capable of judging whether I do want a cup of tea, which luckily, as I've already said, I generally do. I don't like needlessly wasting energy, but its like its not me doing it!

I'm sure its my inner cave woman speaking. May be there some ancient cerebral link between the kettle and the hearth or the fire in the middle of the cave. Its my little wifey bit in my character, which doesn't generally respond well to things like ironing, vaccuming and dusting.

I always turn to tea in a crisis. Its the least or the most I can do.