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Iris
Saturday, September 18, 2004
 
Presents.
It was my husband's birthday a couple of days ago but he was luckily in London for it, so various old friend underlings from work took him out to lunch and dinner and I had to do nothing. But obviously I am not a complete bitch and now he is due here today I have made some kindly preparations.

Last week he said, 'I really don't want any presents this year. Especially any birthday kind of 'stuff', you know'. 'You mean like the things we normally give you?', I said sarcastically. 'Yes, exactly', he replied non-sarcastically.

Hmmm .... a challenge then. My son has said in the past that he is afraid to admire anything in a shop or magazine because, long after he has decided that he didn't specially like it after all, it will turn up as a Christmas present. 'Well, what am I supposed to do? You will never say what you want and some things have to be a surprise or it is all really dull'. So now he says, 'Wow, that's pretty cool .. BUT I DON'T WANT IT'.

I hope this doesn't apply to practical things in my husband's case because that is what I decided to do. At a great deal of time and boredom to myself I set up two things which should make him happy. He has often moaned that due to the setting of the house it is almost impossible to have his breakfast in the dawn while facing the sun. SO ... I have cleared and replanted a small terrace outside one of the big East facing windows and cleaned and dragged down a charming ancient garden chair from a barn miles away. And, with electrical knowledge I didn't know I possessed(?), bought and wired up some speakers on a vast length of flex so that he can listen to music on the other side of the house, plus a CD of an ancient Cuban jazz piano player to move him on from his favourite (but not mine)
early tinkly piano music.

And, as we are probably the last people in the world to discove the oroM* Cookbook but we have and it is really good. An alm0nd and sh3rry tart. This has all turned out to take about a million hours more time and thought than usual and he had better be pleased - or at least nice about it - and definitely not have 'that face'.

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