Home-made Hollandaise, sunshine and champers at dawn? Yep, it must be my birthday. And so it was on the 5th July that the clan gathered to witness another dual celebration with me and Barry, combining all good things culinary with the odd bit of ‘old money’ neighbour baiting in good ole’ Forest Row, with two old blokes in Subarus. Anne-Marie was happily quoted as saying ‘the only way I’m ever going in that is if I have a bag over my head’, and with that, the day was off to a flyer!
Quite a hard start to the saturday (you’ll always find me in the kitchen at parties)though, as my beautiful new RL birthday shirt from my favourite girl, (cheers mother) (….’surely that can’t be his can it?.’ I heard you, don’t deny it…..)came close to getting pebble-dashed with a load of fresh custard to go on the salmon. Grey pullover saved the day, and then an apron went on top to give me that nice ‘I own a bacon roll cafe-type‘ look.
Once I’d completely mis-judged the mix of Lemonade to Pimms ratio, and Anna had started off too early on the good stuff, I had a feeling it was going to be a long, but brilliant day, and at the end of Saturday night’s drab football match between Holland and Costa Rica finally ended, I was knackered. I’d waited till the end, but Barry and my mum had gone early, unable to watch any more football.
All were on great form, I lost another £400 to Max as his magic show hit new heights (nice one Sir) and I returned to Essex at 1pm, just as the British Grand Prix started and then, 10 seconds later, stopped for an hour when they decided to do some impromptu rallycross, which doesn’t do for F1 cars. And after seeing Mark Cavendish dislocate his shoulder on the Tour de Harrogate (France), I suddenly realised it wouldn’t be too long before I might see the hideous visage of a work colleague with his legs greased up, sitting in front of his house with a crate of cider waiting for the cyclists to come past his front door and possibly do him in for good. Well , you never know, stranger things have happened and it ‘s been that sort of a weekend.