09.06.10 - sugar lumps and rose covered china tea cups

Holiday musings.............

My eyes are barely open and I can hear a sleepily sung version of happy birthday from a tousle haired Youngest. He is rubbing his eyes and yawning and climbing into bed with me as Eldest flops out of his sleeping bag while mumbling a similar sounding warble. Himself is already up, passing me a mug of coffee. He smiles over the boy's heads and words happy birthday to me. I smile back as I try to place the coffee out of 'bumping-range' while the boys sit close urging me to open my presents. I cough and splutter and sneeze as I open parcels of brightly coloured paper and cards that make me smile or laugh out loud.

The plans for today are laid out for my enjoyment - a tea in a chosen cafe, a walk through woodlands, time spent at a book shop in Castle Douglas then an evening picnic on the beach. I croak my delight, for today, my day, a day for me - I am sporting a rather untimely chesty cold.

Breakfast is a bowl of fruit with honey drizzled luxuriously over Greek yoghurt eaten in glorious sunshine, there are daisies between my toes and sheep baa-ing reassuringly to their lambs. The warm of the sun on my shoulders has a comforting healing feel to it.

The gentle ethereal scent of the bluebells fills the air as we walk through the woods. The welcome coolness of the dark shade from the trees is bliss from the now intense heat of the sun. Even the bees and bird song have almost dwindled to nothing. They too think it's too warm to be active. 

We climb (yes climb) a steep winding track to the top. 

My breath ragged and my throat dry and raw from coughing  prevents me from saying what I actually want to say to Himself as he smilingly shows me the panoramic view from the top. I manage a wheezy smile and I think he may have misread my rheumy eyes for eyes shining with emotion.............. I decide to take photographs, lots of photographs so that I can regain my composure and my breath. 

Himself cheerfully suggests we walk a different, longer, way down.

'So we don't have to go back down on that steep path' he says as he watches me having yet another coughing fit.  

Youngest, ever game for adventure, takes the map and forges ahead as he waves his arms left and right giving random directions and instructions. Eldest holds my hand protectively - I suspect he thinks I am getting past it!

I feel a lot calmer and less out of breath as a silver tea pot is placed in front of me. I lean forward slightly to take in the familiar tangy scent of tea,  only to succumb to an eye-wateringly, now regular, coughing fit. The waitress, complete in her black dress, tights and pinny steps back politely as she takes our orders.

The cafe is like falling into history. There are rows of china cake stands and antique Staffordshire china ornaments. The piped music is 'easy listening' on a loop and the boys pull quizzical looks as they ask 'what sort of music is this Dad?'

Himself, having worked up an appetite decides on lunch rather than morning tea and the boys eagerly join him. I, despite myself, agree!

The boys raise a toast to my birthday as we clunk ice-filled cloudy lemonade glasses against rose covered china tea cups - wonderful. I feel spoilt and loved.

'Cake' insist my three men. 

'I couldn't' I gasp, I have just eaten a lovely plateful and drunk copious amounts of tea - I am complete.

'Cake!'  they insist again.

My resolve weakens and the waitress noticing my quaking lip proffers a calorie laden cake menu, how could I resist...........

Every mouthful of my chosen cake is delicious - it has the equally delicious name of 'Lady Chatterley's Lover', and if she had ever met this cake I am certain she would have had a tryst of a different kind..... 

My birthday, as always, has been made special by my boys - thank you xx