R U OK*

* or how vanity changes everything


As I sit to write this I realise that what I seem to talk about most is eating and drinking with my friends...hmm, possibly giving entirely the wrong idea about my life, it really isn't all 'party,party' I hope you realise, you are only getting the (heavily) edited, condensed and (hopefully) interesting bits...my usual 24/7 is filled with mundane crap like laundry, dog walking, grocery shopping and arguing with children, but that'd make for dull reading.


Anyway, back to the plot. Last week it became apparent that one of our expat girlie friends (KP) had a birthday this week. For some stupid, crazy reason she hasn't, over the past few years celebrated her birthday, I suggested that we should all get together and one thing led to another and on Monday at 9:30 there were 6 girlies (+ 2 kinder who were so quiet and well behaved they were almost invisible, indeed if I didn't know the mother better I'd have thought they'd been bribed or drugged) gathered for birthday brunch in KM's house to mark KP getting another year older.


Now, we girlies know how to frühstück, we know that time and a leisurely pace are required, as are vast amounts of coffee, good bread, fruit, maybe chocolate mousse (eh KP?) and of course good company and ribald chat.


For a celebratory do (as this was) mimosas** were added to the menu, and as this was at KM's house and she must be the daughter of the goddess Kenwood***, the extras looked sublime (I can't qualify this statement because the only thing I dared to eat was a dry roll and a croissant...oh, and a skinny slice of chocolate cake (I was like the uninvited guest who doesn't deserve any of the proper food and has to make do with crumbs****) but there was an egg/ham casserole/bake thingy and a french toast creation that had extra apple and rum and spices (that seemed to be very popular) and a salmon pizza looking thingummy that I would have eaten the whole of...next time...we've already advised KM that due to her prowess as BBH (birthday brunch hostess) she's booked for the last week of September/first week of October when not one, not two, but three of us girlies have birthdays and if I'm ill the day before I shall just stay in bed and sulk.


So that's the good food explained, now for the (ribald) chat;
- RR to KP; "did you get my text, checking you were OK" (there had been a car accident and RR was concerned for KP)
- KP; "I really need to start wearing my reading glasses all the time, I thought the text said 'F**K' "
It will be a while before any of us uses that abbreviation without laughing.


- then, somehow we got onto the subject of tattoos, what on where, which became "what would one have tattooed on a penis".  We never discussed the why question, the idea of what the picture should be was far more amusing,

copyright W&V.

I am quite entertained by the idea of Pinocchio as in this Sixt ad on an air bridge at an airport.  And from tattoos it was a simple hop and skip onto piercings - ears, eyebrows, nose, lips, navel, nipple etc. shudder, it was the "etc." that gave more pause for thought.


The morning flew by, but as Monday mornings go I would have to say it was definitely one of the better ones and we have another frühstück next week to look forward to, no birthday this time, but the setting will make up for that lack as we're back at Villa Landleben and I must remember to book a table for when my parents are over, or there will be hell to pay.




** I think that's American for Bucks Fizz, but as I wasn't drinking (you can tell I was poorly sick the day before) I didn't pay much attention to the constituent parts, I just stuck with the fizzy water (I'm glad my parents are out of internet range, they wont be able to read this embarassing confession)
*** there has to be a goddess of cookery (pre Nigella), surely?
**** clearly I could, and normally would, partake of everything on offer, but having spent the day before alternating between sleeping and visiting the loo, I thought my stomach needed a quiet day.