A glass of tea, taken seriously

A glass of tea is one of the most expensive things most of us drink without noticing.

Think about what is in it. Leaves picked by hand on a hillside thousands of kilometres away, dried, packed, carried across oceans, sorted again and sold on. Sugar refined from a crop grown somewhere else entirely. Water pumped, treated and heated. A glass blown in a factory and driven to a shop. A great many people, most of whom will never meet, worked so that it could sit on a table in Tunis at four in the afternoon.

And it is also one of the cheapest. Measured in minutes of an ordinary working day, it costs less than it has for almost anyone who ever drank one.

The easy direction is to make it cheaper and quicker still. A bag dunked in a mug, drunk standing up, gone before it is tasted.

The other direction is open to nearly everyone. Loose leaves instead of dust. A small pot, warmed first. A handful of fresh mint, rinsed and pressed down with the back of a spoon. Poured from a height into a proper glass, with a few pine nuts dropped on top the way the cafés of the medina serve it. It adds a few coins and perhaps five minutes.

Then sit with it for a moment before the first sip, and think about the hillside, the hands and the long sea crossing.

None of that is extravagant. It is only a refusal to treat something remarkable as disposable. A better glass is nearly always within reach.