The last post. But one.
Heh. Actually what I set out to say in that long rambly thing about worldbuilding? Was actually just this: oh this is so frustrating I really want to be working on my new cool Martian story for I have drunk of Mars water and am drunk on it but I have this whole damn novel proof to read in a great hurry and oh
Just that, really. But I got distracted by a disquisition, I disquisited, and so forgot what I had meant to say.
Also, teatime on the red planet. If the British Empire colonised Mars, I'm damn sure they would take Camillia sinensis with them, and make plantations in the hills, and ensure that the Martian day contained an equivalent of four o'clock, somewhere between tiffin and a chota peg. I wonder if being grown in an alien soil would have a significant effect on the brew? On its colour, its content, its effect...? And what would they do for milk...?
Just that, really. But I got distracted by a disquisition, I disquisited, and so forgot what I had meant to say.
Also, teatime on the red planet. If the British Empire colonised Mars, I'm damn sure they would take Camillia sinensis with them, and make plantations in the hills, and ensure that the Martian day contained an equivalent of four o'clock, somewhere between tiffin and a chota peg. I wonder if being grown in an alien soil would have a significant effect on the brew? On its colour, its content, its effect...? And what would they do for milk...?
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