Birthdays; Death days; Holidays; Fathers’ Days; Mothers’ Days; Valentine’s Day; special food Wednesdays; Tapas Tuesdays; you love to celebrate. Sometimes I’m disappointed when it is only a Thursday but then I remember how much you all like the freedom of Fridays, Saturdays and the joy of Sunday lunch togetherness.
I can’t remember my birthday and my death is still hazy so I think I need to choose a day for myself. You can’t see me so it needs to be a day you are celebrating and I will join in with the festivities and make mischief and play jokes. You won’t realise it’s me, you’ll look at the children thinking that they have knocked the spoon from the side, blame your husband as your drink wobbles on the table, roll your eyes as the pot comes off the boil. I wish that I could throw a sheet over my head so that you could see me as you think I am.
I like June. Midsummer brings me waves of nostalgia and echos of the past. Unexpected thunder, dashing rain followed by clear skies and sun baking the ground hard. It’s been a year since I started to welcome you all back into my life. A year made of colours, hopes and dreams: smells of other times and places: feelings of belonging again. My birthday will be your birthday. Find me on the last Saturday of June. Come to my George, bring me the gift of your time, stay a while, relax, drink and eat with us all a dish made with love.