... so now she can't keep calling us all "old" anymore. No... wait, she can probably still do that, but... never mind.
She had something of a birthday weekend rather than just one party - clearly the best option. Friday night we went to see The Dark Knight, and while I probably don't have to tell anyone to go and see it... go see it. I do wonder if the in-depth discussion of the Joker's psychology after the film would happen in many places other than Cambridge, though.
On Saturday, the official delayed-birthday-party day, we went out as a big group to Teri-Aki - this may have been the visit that has finally warmed me up to the idea of sushi, eels and all; unfortunately, it's still too damn expensive to think about having many visits per term. I spent quite a large part of the time watching James trying to convince Ali of the artistic merit of lesbian Harry Potter fan-fiction (that's lesbians in Hogwarts, not a lesbian Harry). She remained very politely interested throughout, and certainly didn't take the piss as much as some others have in the past...
We went back to Chris's for poker, presents and "cake" - a plateful of mini-meringues with a mini-sparkler stuck in the middle. The one problem that always presents at Cambridge birthday parties, that all of us still have yet to learn from, is that there is never a lighter or a pack of matches around when you want to light birthday candles. We managed to set a piece of cardboard on fire by sticking it in the toaster* and used that to set the sparkler off.
Now, first off I should point out that Chris's kitchen worktop is honestly only about 10 steps from his sitting room coffee table, so you have an idea of exactly how short the time frame was.
Once the sparkler caught light, I looked at it for a split-second thinking something to the effect of combining "Ugg made fire! Ugg smart!" with "Whee, pretty fire thing! Does it bite?"
When that split-second had passed, another part of my brain kicked the parts responsible for those thoughts and pointed out that, according to its calculations, the mini-sparkler was so damn mini that it had about 10 seconds left to live.
Sarah was sitting with her back to the kitchen, so the grand entrance of the "cake" looked a bit like this:
BAILEY enters, appearing somewhat akin to an elephant in full charge.
BAILEY: HEY SARAH QUICK SARAHTURNAROUNDQUICKLOOK
SARAH: Ooh, sparkles!
SPARKLER: FFFfffft. [dies]
The SPARKLER'S passing is briefly mourned.
Everyone eats mini-meringues.
In the kitchen, the SPARKLER'S brethren wait in terrified silence should another be Chosen tonight.
THE END
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*I'm serious, don't try this at home, especially my home, because I'll personally find a way to reach through the screen and smack all the stupid out of you.
This public service announcement was brought to you by the South-East Institute of What The Hell, Why Do Younger Siblings Always Pick Up The Bad Ideas First.
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