F’s birthday

At 11:55 am I headed back down the road clutching flowers and a birthday card. It was to be a small gathering< None of her children were coming down from Paris Madame was in Paris, and someone else who was due to turn up didn’t come and didn’t phone to cancel. Their next door neighbour, a blonde ex-model who was very, very shy might appear later for a piece of birthday cake if she could be coaxed out of her flat. That left me, F, her bloke J-M and a couple who had driven down from Toulouse.
We had the usual aperitif and then our main course.

It took some time for the Toulouse couple to believe that we would be able to communicate in French, but eventually they relaxed.

F asked casually if I had a headache when I had woken up in the morning. I replied that I hadn’t. They were both suffering after the apero the previous evening. (light-weights)

F loves Michel Sardou, so the television had to be on as there was a special programme on about him. She is even going all the way to Toulouse to see him in concert, early next year.

F with the lovely Michel Sardou

Every so often we had to sing “Appy-Burfdae” just to remind us why we were all there I suppose. F had asked me to record the event for posterity, so I had taken my camera along.

The time for cake arrived and the timide neighbour was fetched. Now I’m no expert on shy people, but she did not seem to be shy at all. In fact she took charge of lighting the sparklers on the cake. She makes a living online, selling potions for slimmers. She had at least one tattoo on show too.

The neighbour didn’t stay long, but took a plate of cous-cous away with her to eat later. I noticed that she ate hardly any of her cake.
As is often the case when people of a certain age get together, various medical conditions were discussed. F has a bit of diabetes, Mrs Toulouse has a lot of diabetes, heart operations, knee problems, feet problems, the list was endless. It became obvious that Mrs T was going to win hands down in the debilitating illness stakes even if it was F's birthday. F had only one escape route. "Appy-Burfdae 2 YOO”

F was looking after Madame’s dog (as Madame was away). Lou-loo had made a futile bid for freedom by escaping under the fence, but she had not realised that the long lead that she was on, would prevent her from getting farm. Getting back was also not going to be easy.

I cannot remember what time I set off back home. The Toulouse couple had gone. There was talk that I must stay for an evening meal, but I could not have eaten another thing.
So F enjoyed her birthday. Just before I left, F said that as Madame had missed the birthday, there was to be another meal the following weekend. Le rosbif, and that I was to come along to that too.....