A ‘surprise’ party organised by an (the) endlessly thoughtful young man, perfectly punctuated with cake, charades and chats.
Good friend A. surrounded by the debris of a (delicious, homemade) birthday cake.
My bag-carrier (butler?) and best friend posing whilst lugging our tinned tomatoes/gigantic aubergines/white wine/smoked salmon/pesto potato feast homewards.
Pretty houses and blue skies en route to Emmy’s house, and brunch.
A day so warm it was time to bring the old wedding shoes out of the cupboard. How my bare ankles rejoiced!
Film photographs to be developed, cards strung up across the room, leftover cake aplenty (breakfast?) and twenty-two doesn’t feel much different at all. Reminded, though, of all the goodness in life and in chocolate cake (bad for the figure but salve for the soul) and not to kick small dogs even when said dog’s owner’s back is turned (honest mistake!)