Toast

Today is Polly's 40th birthday, or as she puts it her 21st with 19 years experience. The day started early. Very early. At 6.30am we heard giggling and an unnerving amount of rattling and banging coming from the kitchen. Shouts of “Incoming” and (more alarmingly) “Fire in the hold!” could be discerned. Polly gripped the mattress and fought to restrain herself from going to find out what was going on. Breakfast in bed was what was going on. We have one of those 3 second kettles, which makes one mug of boiling water at a time and is relatively safe for an 8 year old to operate, so first came a cup of tea. With the tea came toast. That's toast. Not toast with butter and marmalade. Not even toast and butter. Just toast. “Hmm...” said Polly. “Lovely.”

Now we're preparing for tonight's party. Lots of people have rallied round to help with moving stuff here and there. The church hall is being dressed, food is being prepared and the phone rarely stops ringing. We've gone through the 'what if nobody comes' stage and on to the 'what if everybody who's been invited comes' stage. Too much food to not enough food. Polly's making lists. Lots of lists. She's got a list of her lists. Top of the list is – Don't forget the Elephant.