Tea parties are pretty strange. I mean, if you think about it, they’re pretty strange. Men in sharp black suits and polished shoes not going to the office. Women in flower-adorned hats and their Sunday best not going to church, well Sunday church.

Everyone stopping in the middle of the day and dropping all their cares to drink dried leaves given names like British breakfast tea and Earl Grey and snack on tiny crust-less sandwiches with slices of cucumber and sides of puffy balls with cream. They’re all gathered around tables draped in linen and topped with floral arrangements while they sip from gold-rimmed teacups and ask each other about how their family is doing, laugh about theories on why young people don’t wear hats and propose the best wisdom on beating the heat.

Slowing down, talking with friends and enjoying the day instead of racing from point A to point B like the rest of the world. What strange people.