And so the big day is here, I am 80.
When I was young I thought 80 was out there, in the stratosphere, but now I am quite comfortable with the fact.
My daughters make a fabulous dinner:mixed salad for starters, then monkfish and scallops in a creamy saffron (thank you so much, Rick, for the luscious Spanish saffron) sauce on Basmati.
We had to move the big table under cover, the sky was threatening .
Rick got here from Marbella, Daniel from Budapest, Jesper, Mette and daughters Emilie and Cathrine from Copenhagen, Christine and Arnold from California, Pia from Goa. John-B and Juliet drove through the gate just in time,with children Atlanta, Katarina and Jonty, accompanied by Archie, the St. Bernard, and River, the Labrador.
As we savored strawberries and cream on Katrin-made meringues, I opened a plethora of presents, embarrassing. Our sadly missed Katrina outdid herself: she made an oil painting of Trilby, my cherished three-legged cat.
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