Once upon a time in a not so far away land and in a not so distant time, in and amongst the pebbles on the beach and in view of the old pier, there lived a young girl.

Now this girl was no ordinary sort of a girl and she believed, with all her heart (and then some), that tea should be drunk out of china teacups and the cake should be eaten at least once a day, everyday and as regulary as clockwork. It was an excellent tonic for the heart and the soul and the constitution. If only, she often thought to herself, one could have a different cake for everyday of the week, plain for a Monday and fancy with whipped cream and berries on a Sunday.

And what, and this was her other thought, if there was a cake to suit every mood, every lull and every high? Would the world be a better, calmer more delightful place? She would sit on the beach and stare at the sea and imagine a little shop with teas that were infusions to put you to sleep and others that were brewed to help you awake and strong aromatic coffees and of course rows and rows as far as the eye could see, of cake and tarts and other sweet treats... this was indeed a dream worth pursuing.