Whatever happened to Twinnyness?

We celebrated Perran and Carenza's birthday by going to the Making Modernism exhibition at the RA. (Thanks to MaryBeeArt for the recommendation.) Four women artists made extraordinary work at a time when to be called a great artist you had to have a pair of testacles.

Two of the paintings were of twins, but as babies. It's true that now Perran and Carenza are very much adults, people rarely congratulate me on my multiple birth, or say , 'You've got your hands full.'

Even in the cafe where we went for lunch afterwards, the waitress heard us discussing 'the birthday' and brought a single scoop of tiramisu with a candle....and set it in front of Carenza. Perran (who actually made the booking) said, 'And it's my birthday too,' only to have the waitress smile non-comitally, as if he were some kind of dessert fraudster.

So does twinnyness really diminish in adulthood? 

Not at all.

The twins arrived at the RA from different parts of London - although they hadn't seen each other that day, they were nattily dressed to match, both in baggy black trousers and outsize jackets.

Twinergy.

A Bit of a Bash

One of the effects of covid has been fewer outings and get togethers.  There is an upside. It means that within the quiet beige landscape of our lives any celebratistands out like a faceted jewel gleaming in a precious setting.

I was so thrilled that all three children came and stayed for my birthday.  We pushed the boat out and went for two outings.  We spent Saturday at RHS Wisley where the Autumn colours were kindling along the avenues. Then on Sunday after church we visited the Royal Academy (belated) summer exhibition.  It is a measure of my euphoria that just for one brief moment I even considered buying something.  

We also caught up with our great friends Ethan and Dan at points over the weekend. 

And now it is over. But for a long time I shall be turning over the memory of this bright jewel until it becomes as smooth as sea glass in my pocket.

A Birthday without sticky patches

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.