How to celebrate a birthday French style

Bonjour

I hope that you and yours are well.

It was my birthday this week and I celebrated in style. I took Smudge the kitten to the vets for his vaccination and Ronnie the Labrador had his ear wart treated. I did get a rousing reception in the chicken pen from Barbara Streisand, Lady Gaga and Gina Lollobrigida; as usual Joan Crawford jumped into the food bucket and pecked me, and Kim Kardashian tried to chase everyone away from the lettuce so she could have it to herself. I did though manage to find time to catch up with my lovely neighbour Claudette, who celebrated her 95^th birthday this year – I think, she says she forgets the dates now, and can’t remember if she’s 92 or 95 but since she feels younger, perhaps she is! I like her philosophy.

We celebrated with a thimble-sized glass of her home-made walnut wine (thank gawd because much as I love her, I couldn’t manage more than a mouthful, it tastes like puddle water in a muddy country lane after the rain stopped two days ago and it has cogitated sufficiently to become sludge. Not that I have drunk puddle water in case you were wondering, but that’s how I imagine it to taste).

“When my man was alive” she said, “we’d celebrate my birthday at home after he got back from a hard day’s work in the fields. He always found the energy to make me feel special. When we were young, we played records and danced – in the 60’s the music was great. And always my man would bring me home a big bunch of wild meadow flowers.” She smiled wistfully and shut her eyes to remember. “Every year I would take a flower from the bunch and press it in a book, but he’s been gone a long time now and they’ve all faded.”

“It doesn’t matter, I have my memories. I can see them in my head so clearly sometimes, not so much others, but they are all in there those memories, the best gift he could ever have given me, not things, but love and remembrance.”

Tears pricked my eyes, and she told me not to be so foolish, and offered another drop of walnut wine, which made me rapidly pull myself together.

That evening, Mark, my husband, and I took the dogs Lady, Nina, Reggie and Ronnie for a walk. We watched the sun dip down behind the trees atop The Hill of the Mill (a long gone building), it was peaceful and silent other than the rolling waves sound of the rustling leaves and the mistletoe-laden branches swaying in a gentle breeze and a few late-to-bed croaking pheasants. The air was filled with the smell of freshly cut hay and ripening blackberries – there is a sea of them in the hedges.

“I forgot to get you a present” he said.

And I smiled, because that memory is the gift, and it’s locked away in the treasure chest in my head.

Wishing you all a happy birthday for today, tomorrow, whenever and may your memories be happy.
Bisous from a birthday-girl in France,

Bisous
Janine
Editor

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Janine Marsh is Author of My Good Life in France: In Pursuit of the Rural Dream, My Four Seasons in France: A Year of the Good Life and Toujours la France: Living the Dream in Rural France all available as ebook, print & audio, on Amazon everywhere & all good bookshops online. Her new book How to be French – a celebration of the French lifestyle and art de vivre, is out now – a look at the French way of life.

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