In which I have a very happy birthday
An unusually happy birthday. Lorraine brought me tea, and banana porridge in bed, as I got happy birthday texts from my godbairns and Anton. Lorraine bought me an art piece by Nikki Ward I'd admired earlier, a box containing a matchbox, exploding with paper butterflies. A very poetical thing, as well as cards from Mum and Mas, and Pat and Maureen.
Off up to the smoke, to a cafe called Bad Bean (a silent place where three or four people drank coffee and stared at their macs. One went off in a huff when Paul and I started an exploratory chat about his business. It's a potentially very interesting and different project. I liked Paul too.
I got an unexpectedly large stream of well wishers contacting me all day via facebook, which was unexpected, as well as calls with Mum, Janet and the more unusually, the French Bloke too.
Back to Clapham, and after they had ineptly tested their emergency procedures, and people left the platform I was on, back easily to Brighton. Arrived home at two after walking back, and Beth cooked us a late birthday lunch, and gave me a present of a lovely blue shirt, that fit me well.
When Lorraine got home we repaired to the Preston Park Tavern for a cheeky beer, before walking down to a restaurant called Semolina, where I was taken for my birthday feed. We had spoken to its owners when they worked in the Shakey Head bringing style to sausages and mash. I had cider, mussel and clam chowder with crispy shallot rings. This was a triumph in a bowl. Then I had roasted pheasant, salsify, kale and bacon, very nice indeed (I added a side of cauliflower cheese and chips, both immaculate) and managed to find room for and a plum and porter cake, with quince sorbet. Just a top notch meal and a very reasonable price.
Taxied home. Full of a rare contentment and happiness. A very happy day.
Below, the piece by Nikki Ward Lorraine brought me.
Off up to the smoke, to a cafe called Bad Bean (a silent place where three or four people drank coffee and stared at their macs. One went off in a huff when Paul and I started an exploratory chat about his business. It's a potentially very interesting and different project. I liked Paul too.
I got an unexpectedly large stream of well wishers contacting me all day via facebook, which was unexpected, as well as calls with Mum, Janet and the more unusually, the French Bloke too.
Back to Clapham, and after they had ineptly tested their emergency procedures, and people left the platform I was on, back easily to Brighton. Arrived home at two after walking back, and Beth cooked us a late birthday lunch, and gave me a present of a lovely blue shirt, that fit me well.
When Lorraine got home we repaired to the Preston Park Tavern for a cheeky beer, before walking down to a restaurant called Semolina, where I was taken for my birthday feed. We had spoken to its owners when they worked in the Shakey Head bringing style to sausages and mash. I had cider, mussel and clam chowder with crispy shallot rings. This was a triumph in a bowl. Then I had roasted pheasant, salsify, kale and bacon, very nice indeed (I added a side of cauliflower cheese and chips, both immaculate) and managed to find room for and a plum and porter cake, with quince sorbet. Just a top notch meal and a very reasonable price.
Taxied home. Full of a rare contentment and happiness. A very happy day.
Below, the piece by Nikki Ward Lorraine brought me.
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