Trivia: Brighid takes milk and honey in her tea. Just like me. “Thank you,” she said, before taking a sip and sighing appreciatively. “Most welcome,” I replied, and sat down and took a moment to savor the surrealism. I was having tea with Brighid, a goddess I’d worshipped since childhood, in a city that didn’t exist when I was a child. And my wolfhound was joining us—I had made him a cup and cooled it down with ice, and he was now lapping it up from a dish on the floor.
