Tea is kind of like magic. It cures every problem and solves every ailment. Just been through a bad breakup? Let Earl Grey give you a liquid-y hug. Can’t sleep? Summon rooibos, the mineral-laden super-tea and you’ll be dozing off in no time as the fluid of angels circulates around your tired, achey and Christmas-weight-loaded body. Drinking tea is the perfect boredom repellent too. It doesn’t matter how dull a lecture, conversation or date is because at least you are there drinking tea. Allow your tongue to be cleansed by the free flowing fluid fabulousness that is centuries of blood-thirsty colonialism's gift to the Cambridge student.

And yet, no one seems to drink tea anymore. It's as if we're not grateful. On those rare occasions when someone asks me to lunch, I am not invited to tea but instead to drink the big C: ‘let’s get a coffee’, ‘let’s grab coffee’, ‘fancy a coffee date?’. Coffee has become the drink du jour and it makes me gag a little bit. It's not that I hate the humble coffee bean, ground and shot through with milk and hot water. I mean a) it's an inanimate object and b) I desperately need the drug to propel me into physical movement every morning, but tea is coffee's far superior but tragically under appreciated older brother, and the time has come to give one of Mother Nature’s greater gifts the recognition of Cambridge's student media. 

1. Tea for the essay crisis:

Indigo. Size doesn’t matter when they go this far.

Size isn’t everything. No honestly, it’s how you use it. It being the tea. Size being the amount of space available. If you need proof of that, look no further than Indigo. Indigo is a small hole in the wall paradise just off King’s Parade, hidden away in St Edward’s Passage. It’s not literally a hole in the wall, but actually a relatively small but fully functioning cafe. The front room has three small tables, some chairs, art on the walls and coins from all around the world plastered on every vertical surface. The walls are painted indigo, obviously, and there’s even a notice that says they’ll fine you £1 if you use the word ‘literally’ incorrectly. Hilarious.

The counter is to the back of the front room and there is another floor upstairs if you don’t nab a spot in downstair's prime real-estate section. Indigo is the perfect spot for the essay crisis. Hidden away, there is little chance you’ll meet someone who will ask you how your essay’s going. Instead, because it’s so small, you’ll spend half an hour listening to the conversation taking place over your shoulder, and you'll quickly forget your own issues and everything will be right in the world once more. It's called escapism. Finally, everyone who works there is most likely cooler and more charming than your current friends anyway, so you might as well spend some time there and ditched your frankly vanilla friends. Indigo doesn’t have a card machine which is a nuisance, but who cares when they’re willing to adjust orders of food to basically whatever you want. I had a cup of Earl Grey and longed for a baguette. Alas, I only brought £2 but the next time I can’t muster up the energy to write intelligently about modernism, I will be in Indigo.

2. Tea for the hangover:

Fitzbillies. Light, airy, sticky (the buns). Heavy, stodgy, sticky (you).

Drinks, shots, strawpedod VKs, a few more drinks, some awkward grinding, and then haze. So much haze. Oh god. It’s morning. Hangover. Headache. Arm ache. Hip ache. Why do parts of my body I didn't even realise have nerve endings ache? Where is the light at the end of this sore tunnel? The light, dearest hungover Cantabrigian, is Fitzbillies.

The dark brown wood Fitzbillies logo in the golden-syrup-like font and clear panes of glass which house the majestic window displays of cakes are not, immediately at least, the sort of thing you’d expect from this comfortable and airy space. Fitzbillies, as expected with any decent cafe establishment, offers a great selection of teas and the seating to the back of the restaurant is decorated with soothing blue and white tiles. A personal favourite tea there is the peppermint served with the infamous Chelsea bun. The distinct tastes offered by both complement each other well. Everything is easy at Fitzbillies. The team are great and keep out of your hair which is perfect when the hang is hitting you hard, it’s not so loud as to trigger a headache, and not so quiet as to let your mind question your choices from the night before. The perfect combination.

3. Tea for a date:

Afternoon Tease. Go for the name, stay for the tea… and cake. 

Afternoon Tease’s name alone deserves some serious brownie points and the brownies and other delicious treats like the carrot cake are divine with a cup of English breakfast tea. Need I say more than ICE BREAKER with a name like Afternoon Tease? I probably should.

The food is exquisite. The menu changes regularly, is well priced and offers good portion sizes too. They even have their own Instagram page (@afternoontease - food porn alert) so you know what you’re missing when you’re not there, and they prepare the cakes right in front of you behind the counter. Just keep the salivating subtle. Tea is served in vintage pots and cups and the teaspoons are all from the 1950s. Cute. Underneath the largely awful redbrick building, Afternoon Tease has carved a place out for itself as a minimalist, bright, light space on King Street (opposite Clown's). The cafe is a relative newcomer which is likely to stand the test of time and the nervous encounters with someone you hope to tease in other ways. And once you finally leave, you might just get lucky and win yourself a second afternoon tease.

4. Tea when you’ve given up:

Starbucks. The green goddess is a witch to tea.

Sometimes nothing is going right. You don’t like yourself. You can't stand the people around you, your work, or your supervisor. In fact, twenty years of life choices are suddenly up for question. And there are places for that.

Take your unhappiness and give it Starbucks, a place that just like you, has pretty much given up offering anything unique to Cambridge. There are six, yes, SIX Starbucks in Cambridge. That is one for each of the approximately six stereotypes that Cambridge students can be reduced to. They all look the same and offer the same general smile. It’s a nice smile, but Starbucks, Cafe Nero, Costa, Pret and the others are not the places to get a cuppa in Cambridge. This loathing aside, the green tea is decent and so is the chocolate cake. Down with the corporate patriarchy. Up with good cake.