This week
it was Perran and Carenza’s birthday.
In the past
the weekend closest to their birthday has been packed with activity.
We have held
a Pirate Party, a Harry Potter Party, and one year, owing to a blizzard, even a
Build-Your-Own-Igloo Party. Each year, I
have baked two cakes and decorated them elaborately to match their current
interests. We have bought and made cards and gifts to capture their imagination.
But a year
after the twins moved out to share a rental in London, this birthday was
different.
When the
weekend arrived, I had nothing better to do than clear out the Welsh dresser; Nigel painted the downstairs
loo.
Finally, early
on Sunday afternoon, we pootled into London, took Perran and Carenza to the amazing Bill Viola exhibition at the RA, then on to an early dinner at Sagar, where Will joined us. I
handed over two small and frankly disappointing token gifts and Nigel BACSed
them a proper present.
Then we
dispersed to our homes.
It had all been kinda easy.
I felt a
little flat until we were opening our front door and Nigel pointed out that we would
not be needing to mop up sticky patches of lemonade from the floor, nor pick
crisps out from the sofa cushions. There
had been no breakages nor any weepy kids.
All we had
to do was watch the last episode of Les
Miserables on telly. And even that came
to a more-or-less happy ending.
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