mystical morning

Dawn at the old chateau.
Clear mist drifting over the fields.
Aunty Mary's hens performing Handels 12th Cockadoodledoo Chorus in D Minor.
Ah, the beasts must die.
Entering the kitchen I am met by the Mammy already in situ, quaffing a coffee.
I switch on the kettle with one hand while pushing Paddy Pup's snout out of my face with the other.
The Mammy contemplates me sagely for some moments.
I flump into a chair.
"Why does she call you the king of cups?" enquires the aged parent out of the blue.
I favour her with my famous Paddington Bear stare. There is only one way the Mammy could know anyone on the planet has ever referred to me by the name she's just mentioned. The aged p must have been browsing through The Heelers Emails.
"Had a good read did we?" I enquire somewhat bitterly.
"Well most of them are a bit boring," quoths the Lilt. "But anyway why does she call you that?"
"I think it's to do with Tarot cards," I reply wearily.
"Oh," sez the Mam realisation dawning, "I thought it was because you drank so much coffee."