My celebrity spot today was seeing Gok Wan sitting eating outside one of the cafes in Bermondsey Street. It made me realise that I knew the face, I knew the name but I've never seen anything he's ever done. Such is the extent of fame these days.
Saturday night was spent at a fundraiser for the NSPCC. The Cat's Mother is the local treasurer, so we all get dragged along whenever there's an event. This was a Royal event, an early celebtation of the Queen's jubilee. The place was dressed up with bunting and photos of our favourite Royal. The format is always similar...after all why change a winning formula? The host on each table brings along the food - the menu is decided upon by the committee. I'd spent my afternoon arranging slices of soda bread with mackerel into a union jack and a crown. I'm not sure anyone noticed, but I was pleased. There was a glass of champagne for everyone as they arrived. The champagne had been donated, but the first bottle smelled and tasted of sherry. So it became my responsibility to taste all the other bottles. They were all fine. The rest of the evening was all a blur for me. The sacrifices we all make. It was probably also a blur for The Boy. He was one of the waiters...that didn't stop him having a glass of beer in his hand every time he made an appearance.
Sunday was one of The Muffin's birthday...she's 9, so we all trooped round to play Wii Games whilst also eating mini toad in the hole. Although the age range was from 80 down to five everyone seemed to have a great time. Although some people were wondering how on earth I will manage to co-ordinate with everyone else during the dancing at the opening of the Olympics. I wonder myself to be honest.
Sunday was, of course, Mothering Sunday. A date that The Boy and I have ignored for some years for obvious reasons, but times change so this year was different. The Cat's Mother was brought breakfast in bed...the day before I'd gone out and bought champagne, smoked salmon and eggs and issued 'guidelines' to the Teens that 9.00 would be a good time to serve it as this would ensure we were still in bed. That was probably my mistake as true to form The Boy regarded this as an order to be carried out with military precision, whilst The Cat thought this meant that sometime between 9.30 and 10.00 would be spot on. Words were evidently exchanged in the kitchen. Anyway, it was delivered. One plate of scrambled egg and smoked salmon and one glass with the bottle of pink champagne. Fortunately The Cat's Mother is a sharing sort. Flowers also delivered, and The Cat presented her with a couple of beautiful gifts and a bunch of daffodils. Lovely.
On the other hand, in getting home organised, I'd forgotten my own responsibilities I hadn't sent a card to Grandma in Cyprus. She has a lot to put up with. Thank heavens her other son is a better son and had sent a card. I Skyped, but it's not quite the same is it?
