The surprises kept on coming

It’s been one remarkable weekend.  One to treasure for all kinds of reasons.

The most wonderful bunch of people began to appear on Sunday afternoon and as I looked down into the atrium I was thrilled to see all the plans coming together.  So many secrets were being revealed as one by one, dear friends arrive from here, there and everywhere.

I could see the look on my Hero’s face as the room filled and the small gasps when yet another surprise was revealed.  It was lovely to observe our small and cherished network of friends get together in such happy circumstances as the various circles blended. 

Edward’s voice held out – he’d sung at a wedding the previous afternoon and was feeling a bit croaky.  His singing took everyone’s breath away however, and his performance was yet another memorable moment in the series of events, but particularly so for his very proud father.

Tra’s beautiful playing followed and watching the rapt attention on the faces around the room was terrific.  Wonderful music played with such skill in beautiful surroundings, in the company of our dearest friends and family – how could it not stir every emotion? 

Time for afternoon tea, then, and elegant cake stands laden with sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam and the most deliciously tiny cakes and pastries.  Our small friends’ eyes lit up at the sight of pink, sparkly macaroons and older, wiser guests set down their glasses in favour of cups and saucers. Birthday cake celebrations followed and after some persuasion, the candle brought from Portland performed – the lotus flower opened with a candle on each petal, a flame shot from the centre as it began to spin and play “Happy Birthday”.  Fortunately, we had rather more talented piano accompaniment!

By now, everyone had settled into easy conversation and the atmosphere was warm and relaxed.  The mezzanine lounge area filled and it was great to see connections made as each got to know another.  I sat back with one of our oldest friends and observed the conversation taking place around us.  Four young people with incredible talent and ability; one a high level IT professional who sings with an internationally-renowned orchestra chorus; another a Cambridge graduate working on graphical user interfaces, also a singer; the charming partner of our Godson, with a doctorate in neuroscience and our own sweet Cambridge graduate, political communicator, singer and apple of his mother’s eye.  A quiet moment to feel thankful and truly blessed.

Earlier in the afternoon, someone had mentioned the Temple.  A room built for a Masonic chapter in the early 1900s, it had been concealed but rediscovered when the hotel had undergone renovation and was now a hidden gem.  The delightfully accommodating staff took us on a tour and one by one we oooohed, aaaaahed, danced barefoot on the cool, £2m floor, had photographs taken (a la here) or simply marvelled at this stunning (or spooky, depending on the point of view) space.

Going back up into the light was a reminder that all good things come to an end.  As people drifted off to make their way back home, the balloons were gathered up and the room became quiet again.  After a quick freshen up, we signed off the day with dinner in a favourite restaurant.

What a day.

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Of course, the raised levels of excitement mean that I totally forgot to take a picture to go with this post, but use your imagination and find plenty here.

We are Les Mis fans, I have to admit.  We first saw the show performed by the original cast fairly early on in its 25 year history and it made a deep and lasting impression on us both.  Though we’d seen it again a couple of times, the most recent performance in February left us feeling a little downbeat and disappointed.  It was all smaller, less dramatic and the performance more workaday than the slick, breathtaking one we’d remembered.

But then, we saw the 25th Anniversary DVD and read of cast changes, updates and reorchestrations.  Maybe we needed to see it again.  Looking for something to do on the evening before the party, we eventually managed to get four tickets – not easy because interest had been generated by the new cast members (and here).

Oh my goodness.  The show we saw last evening was as good, if not better than, the original!  The audience were receptive and very responsive – the woots and cheers reflected the genuine reaction to the stunning performances on stage.  Alfie Boe was every bit as good as promised, Matt Lucas the most terrific, instinctive Tenardier and the other major roles were played by equally talented performers.  We all felt blown away by the experience and walked away from the theatre buzzing with excitement.  This morning, the reaction is still ongoing, we woke up high with those marvellous songs going round and round in our heads and of course, Mark is still reeling from seeing his special “mate”.

Definitely one to remember.

The first secret is revealed

Well, it was no secret that we had tickets for Les Miserables last night.  However, we had four tickets and we were only three – the fourth was for a mystery guest who was planning to meet us in the foyer before the show.

We drove up to London earlier in the day with Bettine (the birthday boy’s Mum) and spent a lovely afternoon pottering about Selfridges, mostly, where we had a great lunch in Hix.  We went over to the hotel mid afternoon, where the cake received as warm a welcome as we did ourselves, and settled ourselves into our very comfy and stylish room.

So, what of the mystery guest?

We stood outside the theatre, scanning faces for a familiar one and remarking that it was a bit like a live “Where’s Wally?” search!  But our mystery guest wasn’t going to be wearing a red and white striped T shirt, and gender unknown to all but me, the challenge was considerable.  As 7pm approached, I began to feel nervous, because our guest had travelled some considerable distance and who knew, arrangements made by email some months ago might have gone awry.

Thankfully not.  I spotted the guest’s unmistakeable presence on the other side of the road and alerted by my unintentional sigh of relief, Mark followed my gaze.

“Oh, wow….can it be….no…oh my goodness…”

By that time we were half way over the road and doing our best to make our way through the crowds, we burst into the foyer to see someone trying (unsuccessfully) to hide behind two members of staff.

“G’day Cobber!”

Our dear friend John, having come all the way from Melbourne, Australia for the occasion, was waiting to give Mark a hug.

the story continues….

Birthday Hero

There’s a birthday in the house today.  Having spent the last few months building up to the big day (because, yes, it’s one of those which ends in “oh”), one by one, secrets are being revealed.

Not all secrets are out yet and some will remain hushhush until Sunday, when we’re having a tea party in his honour.  Till then, lips are sealed.

 

The morning brought a flurry of post and fond greetings from here and there, not to mention a little fallout of the nicest kind.

And then there are cakes.  Four of them to be precise.  Well, two “proper” cakes for tea parties and taking home and then two rather more impromptu, lemon drizzles, for the choir rehearsal this evening.

Will there be candles?  Possibly… ;-)

It’s frothy, man

(if you need a reminder where that phrase came from, go here)

Sorry!

A new toy arrived in this morning’s post.   Williams-Sonoma is always a magnet for our attention when we’re in the USA and spotting one in Portland, we were drawn like moths to a flame.  A young woman was demonstrating the Aeroccino and offered us all coffee, which I, as the only coffee drinker of the group, gladly accepted.

I wasn’t the only one to be impressed by this little gizmo, though.  In just 70 seconds, the milk was heated and frothed to amazing proportions and the well-trained demonstrator stuck the stirrer vertically in the cup to show just how firm that milk froth was.

Of course, we couldn’t buy the thing there, but when we got home, we did the googling and ordered one for ourselves, because much as I love my coffee machine the milk isn’t always heated to a high enough temperature.  And anyway, we’d sometimes like frothy milk in our hot chocolate, or chai, or…

So, we just had a play and, having frothed the milk, I set it in front of the coffee machine and poured a double espresso into it.

Spooky, eh?

Especially when you see which mug I chose to make it in!

(What’s the betting that Picasa will recognise this as a face and will want me to put a name to it?)