Cesarina and Stefi arrived a few days before Lola’s fourth birthday: it was to some extent the reason for Stefi’s visit or, at least, the timing of it. We’d decided to hold the event in the playground between the end of Stourbridbge Grove and the common, and to lay a trail of balloons from our house, through the back, across the common. A plan which would have been more successful if a) the herd of bullocks hadn’t decided to hang out on the relevant section of the common and b) we’d finished the trail and decamped before all the guests arrived.
Of course, these things never go to plan. Almost everyone had arrived before we’d left the house and the one or two who hadn’t encountered Isa or me scurrying between the house and playground.
It was a scorchingly hot day, as were most during the Italians’ visit, which made trundling a wheelbarrow full of party fare across dungy hillocks past curious bullocks both surreal and deeply enervating.
All good fun, though. The playground was empty save a group of laconic youths playing basketball and the kids had a great time chasing each other around the comparitively (to our garden) vast playground. We’d even organised a few games (knowing Stefano was coming!) — Lola had wanted a “monster” party, so we’d bought some fun fur and cut it into scraps and fitted elastic to it so it could be strapped to limbs, torsos, heads, and thus monsters created. It turned out that many came as, or subsequently became, fairies, too. So games where monsters chased fairies, and vice versa, ensued.
There was also a more traditional egg and spoon race, and a rope knotted for tug of war which found other uses. Nor were the chairs we’d carted down there used for musical chairs. But I did give a quick rendition of a song or two on my guitar.
I’d made a cake: plain fatless sponge with a whipped cream and raspberry filling and lemon icing. Quite yummy, if a little uninspired in the shape department. Nothing has really beaten the monkey cake we did for her first birthday.
Oh, darn. I’ve run out of steam. Again.
The enduring image of Neve at the moment has her walking backwards and forwards in a wobbly manner carrying things. Preferably, things that are just a little too heavy. And then finding a step or ledge upon which she can sit.