This morning someone nudged May in the ribs and told it to get its act together. And so it brought out the sun.
I wonder sometimes what it would be like to live in a country that was sunny in season. I am so unstoppably cheerful on a sunny day. When I wake up and the house is flooded with light I could run around kissing everyone on the mouth, and that includes you. Unfortunately for all concerned, this has been the wettest, dreariest spring I can remember. I had to buy Henry an unscheduled cardigan; that’s how bad it’s been.
Today, blazing and blue-skied, was my sister-in-law’s birthday. Felicity is the kindest, sweetest eighteen-year-old you will find anywhere. She laughs a lot. She’s very cool, but effortlessly includes those who aren’t. She is equally at home talking to adults or tickling baby cheeks, and I don’t think she’s ever slammed a door in her life. If anyone deserves an afternoon in a sunny park followed by a hefty quantity of ice cream, it’s her.
(Today is also my brother Rob’s birthday; he is pretty marvellous too. But he’s a missionary with no blog access at present, so I’ll praise him when he can read it.)
We sat lazing in the heat, admiring the sweet pull-ups some bare-chested chap was performing for us on the basketball court. If only we were as cool as that suckah, we lamented. But otherwise, it was perfect.
Felicity, Ben and Jerry and a Cadbury’s Flake (or seven) would like to wish you happy birthday. They party hard, Flakes – go wild.