The mug of tea has been a British institution for years. When things go wrong, we put the kettle on. When things go right, we put the kettle on. When nothing happens whatsoever, we put the kettle on anyway, because a decent brew works at anytime.

One thing I noticed is the erosion of the famous “tea at three” break in modern workplaces. I get messages coming through at 15:05. Clearly expecting an answer. I look at the message thinking: Do you not realise what time it is?

It’s a funny old tradition, but one we’ve done in our house for years. I see no reason to stop it. The planet keeps spinning. Life goes on unabated. And when the brew is ready, we get a few minutes to contemplate or do nothing at all. Either is fine.

But it’s not only the demise of the timing. Where once there stood a copper kettle and a chipped ceramic mug bearing the faded words of some amusing quote, there now sits an industrial espresso machine that sounds like a jet engine taking off in a tiled bathroom.

The espresso machine is an instrument of rapid caffeine delivery. It demands action. It produces a small, violent shot of black liquid designed to propel you back into what you call work with your heart beating faster.

The kettle, by contrast, is a philosopher’s instrument.

Think about the physics of the kettle. Water takes a precise, unalterable amount of time to reach one hundred degrees Celsius. You can’t speed it up by pressing a button faster or by subscribing to a premium tier.

During those two and a half minutes, you are entirely liberated from the obligations of modern existence. You can’t answer an email; you are waiting for the kettle. You can’t attend a Zoom call; the hum of the element renders your microphone useless.

In those two and a half minutes of enforced stillness, more genuine human thought has occurred than in five thousand corporate company days. It is where you notice that the garden fence needs painting, or that your granddaughter is growing up surprisingly fast, or that the concept of remote working was almost certainly invented by someone who wasn’t keen on human interaction.

I’m defending the afternoon kettle. Put the milk in after the water, because that’s how it’s done properly. And above all, make sure the water is brought to a proper, honest boil.