We had a little celebration of Bruce's big birthday yesterday. After sleeping in, and fixing the kids their (second) breakfast while I got some Sunday papers with headlines about the historical run on the bank here in England, showing Bill around town, and meeting a second American family here for the same period we are (just arrived from Atlanta), we had little cupcakes, we gave him a little gift, and sang a song. Bruce enjoyed the kids' excitement, even if he was less excited himself.
He blew out the candles, but I don't think he'll get his wish which might have been that he could see the Oregon Coast in Julia's postcard in person. Although it might not feel like it right now, I think it will be a nice way to mark the time we were here in England. The series of unfortunate train events of Bruce's most recent excursion include starting with the train to London which was actually a bus because of weekend construction, then a commuter train into Paris from a suburb that was packed like sardines with the door simply dividing the crowd at every stop, a suicide jump in front of the train to Paris forcing a long trip with an assigned seat in the middle of a row bumping knees with the person facing him. All within a few days, and he now has two more days before he heads for Switzerland, and not long then before he's back in Paris. Even I can understand how home might sound good.
The kids and I are starting to feel settled in. I have a lunch date this week, and we're arranging to have a family over for dinner next week. Deb and Sarah will be back in town early next week, then a few days to hang out with Deb before she heads home and then just a few days before Mom and Dad show up! Hard to believe our first month has officially past. The birthday was going to happen where ever we were.
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