Happy birthday.

Thursday was my birthday. It was also, sadly, our packing day, with no outings planned because we expected a tube strike that in the end never materialized.

I had planned to spend two or three hours shopping for gifts to take home, within walking distance of the flat. But Mark managed, unexpectedly, to get a slot for each of the teen boys to go driving at Mercedes World outside of London. So instead my shopping slot was moved to the afternoon, and he took the bus with the boys.

Before he left I took myself out for a Full English Breakfast. At the last minute I switched my order to the vegetarian version:

 

The little frittata is spinach and feta. It was nice, and more what I wanted than two kinds of meat wojld ve.

I bought lunch things for the younger children and myself, and went back in time for Mark and the boys to leave. A little packing happened—and then I got a migraine! I took my medication, but had to nap for the next few hours. So it is just as well that Mark and the boys got their chance.

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After they returned, pleased and with new Mercedes lanyards for their gym IDs or whatever, I supervised some more packing; and then around five o'clock I went out myself. I walked through Covent Garden, listening to the patter of street magicians, inhaling the aromas of food from the restaurants, looking in windows. I walked into a shop that sold Scottish wool scarves, I walked into a shop that sold kitchen gadgets, a shop that sold tea things, each time looked around, but kept on walking. I really didn't have enough time to look and think and to find things I wanted, and Covent Garden seemed to be a bit pricey.

I set a new course for Seven Dials. Here and there shops were closing. Some had closed at five, and nearly all the boutiques would be closed by seven. Looking in windows. Nothing drew me.

I saw a sign for a vintage-clothing store. Well, you never know what you'll find in one of these, and here I am in London, so I walked in. Men's clothes on the left, women's on the right. Dresses, mainly crepe floral. A pine-green cotton sweater dress with patch pockets, briefly considered. Then I went over to rifle through the small coat rack.

Hmm. Real leather? Check the tag. Lining, acetate, outer, leather. Hmm.

Sixty pounds? For a leather duster that fits me perfectly, in a color I like? Yes, please! Happy birthday to me!

And then it was time to get dinner, and that was the end of my shopping trip. And that is why I didn't buy any presents in London.

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Our 17yo had gone out by himself to see the UK opening of the new Bladerunner movie, so the rest of us would be having our last-night-out dinner without him. At first I was disappointed that we would miss him, and it seemed wrong that there should be only six of us (although admittedly that would make it easier to get a table).

Then I reflected that I was getting a glimpse of the not-too-far-off future when he would be gone for most all family dinners. I decided that today would be the first evening that I would begin learning about, and looking towards, that new dynamic that is coming, the dynamic where our second oldest is the oldest who is with us at the table. It will be a good dynamic, too, and it stands for good things. And—just like that—while I was still disappointed to miss him, it did not seem wrong anymore, but completely okay and right.

"There are six of us," I said to the waiter in the upstairs dining room of the Nag's Head.

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We had a pub dinner for our last night. Mark and I started with pints of stout and IPA. I think he will be glad, if nothing else, to get home and drink some craft beer with noticeable hops.

The 7- and 11yo ordered lemonade that turned out to be fizzy, and two starters to split as their entree: a chicken basket (popcorn chicken, grilled barbecue wings, and fried wings) and a plate of battered onion rings.

The 13yo ordered sparkling water, and baked meat lasagna that came in an individual casserole, with a green salad.

Mark and the 3yo split a fish and chips platter, with mushy peas on the side.

 

And I ordered a glorious meat pie on a mound of mashed potatoes, with broccoli and carrots and a lovely gravy, and a glass of red Tempranillo wine because by then my Guinness was gone.

 

 

Austerity measures may be called for when I get home, but not on my birthday in London.

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Still reading? Thanks for coming along with me.

All that is left now is the trip home. And maybe a renewed blogging habit? We shall see.

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Comments

[Penelope]

Happy birthday!

It's been so much fun to read these posts :-) thanks again for writing!

[Michelle]

Happy Birthday!

Thank you for bringing us along with you. We also like to travel overseas with our large family (though they are closer in age than yours 4-9), so it's fun to see how another family does it.

[Joy]

Happy Birthday! Thanks so much for letting us read about your wonderful trip.

[Jan]

I have read your blog regularly forcyears but have only commented a few times. First, a very Happy Birthday wish from me to you. Second, thank you so much for posting on your trip. I can only dream of ever taking a trip like yours and you described yours so well it gave a great picture of each day. Safe travels home and I look forward to your future posts.

[mandamum]

Happy Birthday!! Thanks for all the posts. My eldest (14, starting h.s.) is reading along with me :)

[Bearing]

Thank you, everyone!