
the smartie birthday cupcake
yes.
it IS my birthday.
frances made me some birthday cupcakes (with smarties in the mix which sank to the bottom and blended leaked smartie colours into a strange green base...but they were deeelicious).
my age is represented by the sprinkles (or as we call them in the uk: 'hundreds and thousands')
she also gave me a framed photo of herself (on the condition that i don't put it onine anywhere) and a book on 'street art'.
mrs.perou is buying me a cider press.
maximum gave me a cuddly toy dog (that i gave him 3 years ago).

maximum, harry, z and katie
thought i was destined to spend the day on a tractor cutting grass
but after half a day of grass cutting only, i was rescued by my friend max suggesting a trip to the romney, hythe & dymchurch railway for their 1940's day.
me, mrs.perou, max, sue, katie, maximum, harry and z.

i'm leaving on the 5 train...
...to dungeness and back.
i love it down there.
despite the mr.burns styley nuclear power plant.
and all the crap 'craft' art everywhere.
good to be able to let the dogs off the lead sons run riot on the beach with their friends harry and katie.

katie up to her neck in it

maximum burial at sea(side)

new romney
to take this picture, i had to step out and stand in the middle of the railway track.
i told z to wait on the grass bank.
as i stepped out, he shouted, 'no perou!'
and as i turned round i saw him hold his hand to his face and exclaim 'oh, no! this is terrible' before turning round and running away.
presumably to avoid the horror of seeing his father getting run over by a miniature steam train (traveling at about 3mph).
a p-51 mustang flew by a few times.
some of these times the plane and pilot were upside down.
as with all aerial displays, maximum missed it completely despite everyone shouting, 'look up maximum'.

no heelie skating in this exhibition
now home, exhausted for no valid reason.
have just enjoyed a birthday dinner of aged fillet steak, garlic mushrooms and chips from the chippie...all washed down the bubbly stuff that isn't cider.