Hestia's Birthday ....Part Deux

http://theshootingstar.wordpress.com/2008/11/09/wish-upon-a-shooting-star/

Although I was visited by a couple of girlfriends yesterday - both bearing gifts - and protesting very weakly as I foisted Kitkats and Posh Coff (ie filter coffee) upon them, I admit to being a bit disappointed with Tertarus going out on his bike.

He growled back down the driveway around 5pm and asked me what I'd done all day.  'A spot of ironing, a bit of blogging, read some blogs, had coffee with the girls...the usual'.

'What did you have for your lunch?' he asked, rolling his motorbike into the garage as I tagged along at the back like a wet weekend in Margate. I told him: a cheese toastie.

'I had langoustines, sitting in the sun on the seafront at Oban.'

The clouds above my wet weekend head burst open and I was soon soaked in self-pity. 'Oh. Nice.'  There is nothing, dear reader, more pathetic than a 48 47 year-old woman, on her birthday, standing in her ripped slippers, in the driveway, listening to her husband bang on about what a great day he's had.  Without her.


I went indoors.

Tertarus appeared a short time later.  'We're going out for tea.' he announced with a grin.  My heart lifted a little.. 'Where are we going?'

'A BBQ at J&Ms'

J and M are two of my closest friends and I had been wondering why I hadn't heard from them or seen them on m'birthday.  I brightened immediately!

We all got togged up and went down to the bbq.  It was lovely.  I had a couple of glasses of wine, a ridiculous amount of Pringles and humous, herby lamb and salad and then.....for dessert...... a MASSIVE chocolate cake!!!!

The sun had long since disappeared by this stage and Tertarus fired up the chiminea - manfully splitting wood with a tiny axe.  One over-zealous whizz of the blade knocked over his lager and J&M's cocker spaniel eagerly licked it up.

'Can dogs drink beer without any ill effects?' I asked gingerly.

'We'll find out in about 20 minutes,' mused J, handing Tertarus a Guinness to replace his toppled lager.

Needless to say, a scant 5 minutes later, another errant axe blow knocked over the Guinness and, once again, the dog was immediately on clearing up duties.

The dog mooched off into the darkness and let out a really massive belch - one of those ones you could have recited the alphabet to.  It sounded like Tertarus.  I had that vague fleeting thought again of trading in Tertarus for an Irish Wolfhound.  The dog returned and flung himself flat in front of the blazing chiminea.

After a few minutes, we could see 'steam' coming off him.  And that happens with dogs.  But Sonshine wrinkled his nose and said; 'I think the dog's on fire.'  And sure enough, it was SMOKE rising heavenward!

We dragged him away from the fire and I decided to use him as a slightly scorched footstool.

Can I just say that lager makes dogs somewhat farty as well?

By this time it was after 11pm and the kids were getting sleepy. 

'Can we see the meteor shower tonight?' asked M.  No-one could remember, so we spent the next 15 minutes or so craning our necks to the heavens, pointing out The Plough, the North Star, Orion and his belt etc to the kids.

M suddenly pointed to the sky 'Look! A shooting star!!!'

Breathlessly, we followed his finger to the inky, increasingly cloudy, skies.

'I think it might be time for bed, honey', said J with a sigh.  'That's a plane leaving Glasgow airport.'