The weekend before the weekend before last, Ruth, JTA and I went up to Preston, for:
My Sister’s Birthday
My sister, Sarah, turned 21 at the start
of this month, and we – accompanied by her friends and family – went out to a new Punjabi restaurant called East Z East. The food was fantastic (although in hindsight we probably should have adapted the formula as far as naan bread is
concerned, at least – each naan bread was about three feet long!), but the restaurant was a little full! Perhaps be better on a midweek night.
And…
Hoghton Tower
As has become traditional (see blog entries for 2009, 2005, 2003), the next stop was Hoghton Tower for their annual concert and fireworks display. As usual, this event began with the erection of a gazebo in which to have our picnic.
The instructions for the gazebo
clearly stated that it was to be constructed by two adults, so unfortunately I wasn’t able to help Ruth and JTA building it, except in a supervisory capacity. I helpfully assembled the
first deckchair and sat in it, drinking a beer and overseeing the process.
My management skills paid off, and soon we had a gazebo, tables, and a (huge) picnic.
Some of my sister Becky‘s friends had brought face paints and brushes with them, so we formed a line of
people, each painting the face of the next. My mum painted mine: she asked what I wanted, so I told her that I wanted a narwhal, breaching the water and leaping for the sky. I think she did a pretty good job:
Then came my turn. I was to paint Ruth, but she didn’t know what she wanted. The suggestion came that I should paint a rubber duck on her forehead, and so long as you don’t mind ducks
that look like they’re from canary heritage:
The concert itself was even better than normal – the arsenal of fireworks was even huger than we were used to, and was supplemented by the addition of a laser show, too! I was slightly
disappointed that God Save The Queen wasn’t performed (not for any
patriotic reason, I’m sure you understand – I’m just used to them playing it!). Still, a great night, and a fabulous excuse for me to re-educate Ruth in how to count to
three (in order to waltz, you see: it’s incredibly difficult to dance when one participant is counting to three and the other is counting to two).
