Today is Col’s birthday. I don’t need to reveal his age. Suffice to say he is old with a capital O.
He doesn’t care about birthdays at all and it’s a long running problem for us. I, emphatically, do care. I want to make a small fuss of him and have him be grateful. I also want him to make a fuss of me on my birthday. Instead, usually, I make a small fuss, he sort of enjoys it but doesn’t really consider it necessary to reciprocate. Every year I get upset because he doesn’t say happy birthday before I’ve even opened my eyes in the morning and every year he is confused and sad that he gets it wrong (yet doesn’t manage to get it right the following year!).
Anyway, I digress, this is about him not me.
We’d spoken about his birthday and how here in Merida I was unlikely to buy him a gift as there’s nothing he’d actually want. So instead, I booked massages for us both in a wonderful hotel in town. Then, last week, the fool put his back out on a trampoline and I had to call and cancel his massage. Yes, only his. I was damned if I was turning down a massage.
So I cancelled. I plucked up the courage and called, spoke to a receptionist and then was put through to an answerphone. I left a message explaining.
This morning he changed his mind and decided he could cope with a massage after all. Handily it turns out no one ever listens to answerphone messages so we proceeded as normal. The massage was great, very relaxing once I’d reminded myself not to get annoyed that the massage was relaxing not invigorating. I tend to like to feel battered by a massage and therefore spend the first ten minutes or so wondering if I should demand to be bashed harder. Today I decided I’d just lie there and enjoy. It was lovely.
The massages were certainly a step up from some we’ve had around the world. India stands out for being particularly horrendous. We were shown into shabby rooms with dirty mattresses on the floor and grubby towels were put over us.
We got scabies. Ace.
Today also beat the massage that followed the human pizza oven in Latuvi, here in Mexico, where a disinterested woman gave us massages in a freezing cold room with the tv blaring next door. To be fair, a bear massaging me would beat that experience.
To follow up we had an incredible brunch in the restaurant. We shared poached eggs with pumpkin and mushroom cream sauce that was a true taste explosion in our mouths. Amazing. We also shared a Chaya omelette, which was pretty good too. After we found a patisserie to buy cakes for later.
Afer picking up the kids we had a lazy afternoon at home before a green supper. We finally tried the green sausages and deliberately had pesto pasta, lettuce, avocados and green tomatoes with it. Green sausages aren’t bad. They aren’t the most wonderful thing I’ve ever eaten and I don’t really know what was in them (coriander and chilli we think) but they were ok. SG liked them, SB didn’t but still ate them when we said he didn’t get cake if he didn’t!
Happy birthday husband! Nothing like turning 47 in the sun. Hah, I couldn’t resist. He’s old!