VISITING a local town I decided to indulge myself at an upmarket restaurant. I selected my cake and asked the assistant for an extra teabag in my pot.

She gave a knowing nod to the cashier, which I wrongly though meant silly old codger.

I took my purchases, which cost me a king's ransom, to a table. While looking at the receipt I was sinking my teeth into a cake, when I stopped in mid-bite.

I had been charged for two pots because I had an extra bag. War had been declared. I approached the cashier's bunker warily, clutching my steaming teapot in front of me like an unexploded bomb.

Excuse me, miss I have been charged double for my extra teabag. Why? Manager's instruction, she said in a bored tone. Two teabags, double the price.

Muttering threats of reprisal, I retreated to the safety of the other patrons, to drink my very costly nectar. On reaching home, my trusty typewriter turned into a machine gun as I rattled out an ultimatum to the director of the store.

Two weeks later, I returned to the restaurant and selected a complimentary meal a very apologetic boss had arranged for me.

I said pleasantly: Could I have an extra bag in my teapot Certainly sir, will two be enough?she queried.

Unconditional surrender the storm in a teacup had blown itself out.

JOE WALTER,

St John's, Worcester.