The day before, we had cruised down the Thames through Kingston and on to Richmond, we’d had fish ‘n’ chips and mushy peas at The Slug and Lettuce, and then we’d cruised back to Hampton Court, loving every minute of what Mole and Rat would call “simply messing about in boats.”
But the birthday dinner was truly the crown of a shining week.
The steaks were exquisitely done. The weather was beautiful, as it had been all the time we were in England. The swan who swam nearby, hinting that gracious people would share their dinner, was not rude nor demanding, although he was not subtle either, swimming up to the edge of the platform and resting his chin there, looking mournful. Eventually, he did share in our cheese tray. We kept the steaks to ourselves.
I rather suspect that you would have kept this dinner to yourself and not fed the birds, as well. The evening was a joy. Some day, we shall celebrate The Birthday on the banks of the Thames once again.
In the meantime, here’s to you, dear chum! Happy birthday, and many of them.