‘Excel cannot complete this task with the available resources. Choose less data or close other applications.’ You hear the sound of a ton of bricks falling from a great height…and then you realise that this is the sound of your own head reverberating off your keyboard as you have purposefully rammed it into it with considerable force. This is in a vein attempt to a) transfer the data from your head onto your spreadsheet via osmosis, b) hopefully hit the right collection of keys so that the enigma code and Alan Turing proof formula of Excel actually works and c) to somehow inflict pain upon the inanimate piece of technology that has made you want to kill yourself for the last 4 hours, 19 minutes and 47 seconds. Not that you are counting.
It would seem that matching the availability of over 100 students to 400 potential job times is more difficult than locating the conscience of Piers Morgan, proof of Louis Walshe’s heterosexuality or indeed Paris Hilton’s hymen. You have already had the caffeine intake allowance of eight truck drivers who are new parents, with insomnia, on a night shift, so you need something a little less ‘NEVER SLEEP AGAIN’ and a little more ‘chill your nip naps down’. A cheeky treat that will stop you wanting to drive a tank at speed into the Student Finance Office so that all loan payments are stopped that month, and your students can truly appreciate the annoyance, desperation and suicidal tendencies that their insatiable need to not work Thursday mornings to nurse a ‘cheesy 90s night’ hangover, is causing you and the organisation of your precious spreadsheet. Yes, you want to drown in a sea of chocolate, ride on waves of Haribo and douse yourself in Lucky Dip sherbet, but you are trying to be good. So you choose the next best thing: a Piacha Choc Cinnamon Rooibos.
Indeed, suicide avoidance due to a malfunctioning spreadsheet of death was what led me to sup on Piacha’s Choc Cinnamon Rooibos for the first time. I dived into my now overflowing tea draw – also known as the ‘tea crack den’ affectionately amongst colleagues – and pulled out the sleek Piacha packet, hoping it would give me the same release as a strip of valium. Upon ripping open the sachet, KP – whom I sit next to and is in no way related to the nuts – exclaimed that it smelled like Santa. What: children, disappointment and whisky?! Alas no. She clarified that she meant it had the Christmassy aromas of citrus and cinnamon, which she was absolutely right about – I must give her a pay rise…or at the very least stop nicking her paper clips behind her back.
Piacha’s blend contains the South African Rooibos herb, combined with a sumptuous blend of spicy cardamon, warming cinnamon, rich cocoa shells and ‘this tastes nice so don’t commandeer a tank will you?’ vanilla. I popped it in my tea basket, poured over some freshly drawn boiling water, and waited for it to brew for five or so minutes whilst I resumed my ‘bonce-on-keyboard’ position in the hope that I would wake up to find I was really living in the Matrix and this was all a horrible, elaborate dream. Oh, and that Carrie Anne Moss was my girlfriend, my wardrobe only contained S&M-esque leather items and I was a black belt in EVERY MARTIAL ART EVER. Come at me brew!
Despite waking up to find my spreadsheet was still broken, I had a new imprint tattoo of QWERTY on my forehead and I was not in fact Neo, I was pleased to smell the delightful Piacha brew that was to be my saviour. It had the unmistakable red bush aroma – which my love of Christina Hendricks should tell you I am quite partial to – with an irresistible deep cocoa scent that I wanted to rub my face in, a bit like Hendricks’…hair. Yes, definitely hair and no other physical features that she possesses. My first sip deepened the heavenly sensation that was simply smelling this tea; it had a creamy, full bodied mouthfeel, with an initial nutty and earthy cinammon-cum-red bush explosion in ma bouche, followed up by a comforting chocolatey aftertaste with a hint of delicate vanilla. It was so cocoa-ey that it was almost as strong as drinking a pure hot chocolate in itself. I did try it with a dash of milk towards the end of the brew too, but this just diluted juxtaposition of flavours and made it taste ‘thin’, if you know what I mean. Not dissimilar to putting Christina on a diet, chopping off her…’assets’, and then putting a bag over her head.
Piacha’s Choc Cinammon Rooibos was a delightful caffeine free, guilt free and spreadsheet suicide free treat. I have tried a few different rooibos blends recently from other companies, but this and Piacha’s Rhubarb Fudge Rooibos especially stood out due to the boldness of flavours and creamy textures that the others didn’t manage to capture. I am also irrationally excited to go and check out their Islington tea bar in December, which is open until the ungodly hour of NINE O’CLOCK, PM, IN THE EVENING! Rowdy, rave tea buggers they are!
So, if you are after a naughty but nice treat to soothe the soul, and need to lessen your desire to drive moving artillery into financial establishments, then give Piacha’s quali-tea a whirl…and a big ol’ slurp for good measure, just to stick two fingers up to the ‘quiet please’ rule of the office.
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CONTINUE TO SHOW YOUR SUPPORT BY DONATING ONLINE AT THE JUSTGIVING PAGE, ATTENDING SOME OF THE MUGEN TEA HOUSE FUNDRAISING TEA TASTING EVENINGS, AND GET INVOLVED WITH THETWITTER HYPE!
Don’t forget to check back tomorrow for the next instalment of my daily Octeaber blog challenge