Posted by Tania Kindersley.
Tremendous red letter day. It was the Beloved Cousin’s birthday. It started with a birthday breakfast at seven-fifteen; I boiled eggs and made sourdough toast and did the coffee with the frothy milk. Now it is half-past eight and it is not yet over. In between treats and flowers and presents, I managed to do work and gallop the mare. I also made, by request, the special green soup.
As a result, I am so tired, I do not know what my name is. I really have no stamina at all. I even took extra iron tonic, but it makes no odds. The Godson is doing his Latin homework by my side (they really do still say amo, amas, amat) and the lulling repetition is sending me into a gentle trance.
As a result, there is no blog of any name. I know nothing of what is happening in the world; my brain may not form a decent sentence or an interesting thought. But it was a lovely day, and no one deserves a happy birthday more.
Normal business shall resume tomorrow.
A few compensatory pictures for you. There were some very delightful birthday flowers:
Some little beeches in the dancing March sunshine:
Ready for her very elegant close-up:
With her special southern friends:
They all look a bit fed up at this stage. I had made them pose in eight different positions. I kept promising them a biscuit and then making them sit for one more photograph. I think they were all thinking, by the time I took this one: I bet Kate Moss never has to put up with this shit.
But I think you will admit it really was worth it.