it’s my birthday but you can call me barry

I woke up on the morning of the 12th Feb with no voice to speak of…or with. Straining through early morning calls from well-wishers I sounded, worryingly, like Barry White and most were cut short with an “I’ll call you back when you have a voice”. A quick call to work and the day was mine to laze about the house. My devoted Fox arrived at my front door with a pot plant, Scrabble (yes!) and his laptop, to keep me company. I probably got off the couch about 3 times the whole day – just how a birthday should be. Determined not to cancel my pre-planned birthday dinner, I wrapped up tight and braved the cold London air (and rain – darn this city!) long enough to zip down to Manee Thai, my favourite little cheapie-cheapo spot in Putney. The interior really isn’t anything to write home about but the staff are always so friendly and the food is delightfully scrumptious. Good food, good friends (thanks goes out to Rory for extending his stay in London and joining in the celebrations) and a feisty little chili that I will never forget. Eish, talk about dynamite disguising itself! Flip, I actually thought my head was going to explode from the fire that was killing the inside of my mouth, one taste bud at a time. On recommendation by my flat-mate, I ordered the bean-vermicelli only to discover that the tiny green balls adorning my plate were, in fact, the nastiest chilies I had ever encountered. That aside, my night was wonderful and from a birthday that approached with low expectation on my part, I felt truly blessed. Despite Fox beating me at the Scrabble that he bought for me (surely that’s bad etiquette), the day ended on a good note and I went to bed, not feeling a year older, but a year happier.