Spending your first birthday as an ex-pat can come with a mix of emotions. Drew and I have experienced the plucking of the raw nerve that is a birthday away from everything familiar and routine. This is why we wanted to give Candace a grand Annual Celebration of Life, even though she assures us she is not getting older anymore. The party was never intended to include butt and cleavage sweat (let’s all pretend I have cleavage), but the air conditioning at Bincho was definitely not working.
Satsuma saved the day.
A walk across the river landed us at Udderbelly. We caught our first London stand-up comedy show in the big purple cow that makes up the festival’s stage area.
Bob, where ever you are, I hope that someone has done the River Dance for you. You are right, that stag do was pretty tame. Then again, you didn’t pay them to entertain you; we all thought that’s what we had paid the comics to do. May you not get beat up the next time you are drunk and disorderly. And rude.
Of course, the party was also not meant to include a failed visit to Borough Market. (If you can figure it out, please tell me how I managed not to know that Borough Market is closed on Sundays after 20 months living in London. I am currently using the excuse that Portobello and Spitalfields markets are closed on Saturday but open on Sunday.)
Although I felt pretty terrible for having promised something impossible, I did have The Marksman on speed dial and David slapped our name on a table. I think The Marksman may have earned us another chance. It seems that Candace and Lee are not planning to break up with us just yet.
That’s a relief.
Happy birthday my friend!