Fate can be written in a tea bag too.
Mark Johnson is hitting his forties and is stuck in a rut.
He's had the same boring office job for ten years, with no motivation or inclination to change it. The same crumbling house for ten years, with no cash or know-how to fix it. And the same Facebook status for five years-it's complicated. It isn't. He's single. He just doesn't want to correct it. That would be admitting defeat.
The day a tea bag splats onto his face whilst he's emptying the dregs of his morning cuppa at Macy's Tea Shoppe is the one that makes him question each of his current life choices...the tea bag and that the shop is currently being run by one rather friendly, rather hunky, but rather young Australian named Bradley Summers.
Tea has never tasted so good.
Brought up in a relatively small town in Hertfordshire, C F White managed to do what most other residents try to do and fail-leave.
Studying at a West London university, she realised there was a whole city out there waiting to be discovered, so, much like Dick Whittington before her, she never made it back home and still endlessly searches for the streets paved with gold, slowly coming to the realisation they're mostly paved with chewing gum. And the odd bit of graffiti. And those little circles of yellow spray paint where the council point out the pot holes to someone who is supposedly meant to fix them instead of staring at them vacantly whilst holding a polystyrene cup of watered-down coffee.
She eventually moved West to East along that vast District Line and settled for pie and mash, cockles and winkles and a bit of Knees Up Mother Brown to live in the East End of London; securing a job and creating a life, a home and a family.
Having worked in Higher Education for most of her career, a life-altering experience brought pen back to paper after she'd written stories as a child but never had the confidence to show them to the world. Having embarked on this writing malarkey, C F White cannot stop. So strap in, it's gonna be a bumpy ride...