It is Sarah’s birthday.
She was born in November darkness at five o’clock in the morning in the Bristol Maternity Hospital, at the top of Black Boy Hill, where, coincidentally, I learned midwifery some years later. Five o’clock. The most awkward time of night. She was awkward in her origins. She is awkward now. I think I love her because she’s not compliant.
Anyway, for her birthday we ordered a CD of Conan the Barbarian. Though violent, it has a very fine music score, and the villain (Thulsa Doom) reminds both of us of her Neurologist.
I cooked the birthday-girl lamb’s liver and onions and roast tomatoes. She enjoyed it. Now she sits back with a glass of dry white wine.