Yarrow, elder and peppermint

Every English grandmother kept the same three jars for November, and she was right. Yarrow, elderflower and peppermint in equal parts, drunk hot at the first shiver, open the skin and let a cold sweat itself out overnight. This formula is that old tea grown up: elder now as the berry as well as the flower, for the throat and the virus; echinacea from the American prairie, to wake the defences early; a slice of ginger to drive the heat outward and settle the stomach that a fever unsettles. It is a formula for the first day, not the tenth, and the sooner it is drunk the less there is to treat. Wrap up, drink it hot, go to bed. Its five stars are spread across the whole Western quarter, three of them old neighbours and two of them guests who have stayed.