First: why do I have oolong teabags? The whole idea is anathema to my being. They must have been out of the loose leaf. I must have been desperate.
Second: what am I smelling as this brews? Something brown. Smoke? Burn? Chicory, definitely chicory. It’s like somebody threw some of my mum’s evening coffee substitute in with the tea leaves in here. This carries over into the flavour too, over the usual sort of leafy, autumnal flavour typical of this kind of oolong, and something that reminds me of, I dunno, the smell of fish food maybe? But the memory of feeding fishies in my kitchen in the 80s when I was very little. Confusing.
All things considering, it’s all right, but not mind-blowing.
Now I really need to stop procrastinating and finish this painting commission of Jo Grant escaping from a space prison.