The first cup gets us out of bed. I make it half asleep, with the radio on and one eye on the clock, and I could not tell you afterwards what it tasted like.
The second cup is different. Nothing needs it. The work can start without it, the post can be opened without it. It is a small vote for staying at the table a little longer than the morning strictly allows.
A routine is what we do. A ritual is how we do it when no one is counting.
I have stopped apologising for the second cup. It is where most of these letters begin.
— Elin Cardew