This is just a quick little bonus post from the bunker before prepping for the first event of Wedding Season… I have a feeling that posts are going to be very haphazard chronologically. I will reserve judgement on how much of the Asian Invasion to disclose.
So yes! It was my sister’s birthday AKA “Mary 1” and we went to a fairly local beauty-spot that I had never been to before, chock full of lakes: for a birthday picnic. It was very bright and sunny and a very relaxed affair. Unfortunately, my sister’s not big on PROPER picnicking in as much as all the fripperies of rug, basket, etc which I personally love doing, and which would also be pleasingly photogenic for all of you. (Sorry.)
Transient elegance is just par for the course in summer time I think.
Once, I went on a picnic where someone brought cake and Schloer and had literally thought of everything including flatware and storing glasses properly and I briefly pondered if I could fall in love with them. A well-prepared man is totally swoon-worthy. I covetously monopolised the Schloer – usually only ever my birthday drink – after pragmatically deciding against.
So on the birthday we had a wee ramble around and sat down to baked piri-piri lemon chicken and apple chutney sandwiches, sour cream and chive maize chips, water, tea (of which I did not partake) and a moist carrot cake with butter-cream.
Utterly ruinous. Entirely pleasurable. I had to break my no bread no sugar rule which I was annoyed about but had to do for the sake of family diplomacy… and actually the cake felt a bit poisonous after no sugar for a long while. Back on the wagon by tonight, and no dessert!
We had visits from ducks and a rather beautiful swan. I truly believe that just one good day of English summer is worth all the rain we get, that inveigles itself down your neck and the wind that sneaks in to chill every spare crevice of skin.
Autumn is really my favourite season, but summer is autumn’s youth. It was lovely and the birthday girl looked elegant, giving us all a breath of calm in the opening of what is sure to be a multicoloured marital maelstrom, that is only ever allayed by the pleasure of dancing.
~ Pola ~