Author: HairWeavings Editorial Team
I Will Never Forget My Special 83rd Birthday
I don’t have a big thing about birthdays. Sometimes I celebrate and sometimes I do very little. I make a bit more effort for the special decade birthdays, like 60, 70, 80.
But 83 did not seem special on any count.
So, as my birthday approached, I made no plans and did not encourage my family to do so. (My daughter is a great party organiser and would have done so in a flash, but I said no, don’t worry).
And in any case, I was going to be away.
Birthday in Paris
My husband and I go to Paris quite often, although less often than we used to when we were young.
From London, it is only slightly over two hours on Eurostar, plus getting to Eurostar from our house and getting to where we are staying at the other end. Even with the extra wait required at the station, it is roughly four hours door-to-door.
And we have friends with a flat there, so that makes it even easier.
We didn’t plan for my birthday to happen in Paris. Instead, it just happened to be the most convenient time to go, given doctors’ appointments and other fixed events.
Indeed, it was slightly worse. My birthday was the best day to travel back. Several friends commented to me, “What? You are spending your birthday in transit?”
“Yes,” I said, “it doesn’t really matter.” And it didn’t.
A Birthday Lunch
But as the day approached, we thought it would be nice to have a meal to celebrate, using the day before. I chose a restaurant I had been to before, where I knew the food was excellent (it has a Michelin star) and the atmosphere very relaxed.
A relaxed meal is important to me. I hate formality – the waiter putting the napkin in your lap and all that. I like friendliness and comfort.
And we always eat a big meal at lunch – not dinner. We both hate trying to digest a big meal in the evening. Indeed, we don’t like going out all that much in the evening these days.
So, the morning of the planned lunch, we were doing some shopping and dropped by the restaurant to make the booking. We opened the door and a lot of staff, including the chef, were standing right there discussing things. I said hello and that we would like to book for lunch that day. There was a particular table I particularly liked.
But before I could go any further, one of the assembled throng said: “We are terribly sorry, Madame, but we no longer open for lunch most days, including today. I am so sorry.”
Needless to say, I was crestfallen. I had no special back-up. I really liked that restaurant.
With no particular aim in mind, I said I was really disappointed as it was my birthday, and I was looking forward to it. At which point, the chef turned to the young waiter and said: “OK, let’s open up for them.”
And they did!
We came back at the agreed time and had a lovely lunch. Two initial small courses. The most tender chicken I have ever eaten (cooked something called ‘sous-vide’ over a long period). And a complex dessert, in which they had inserted one candle for me to blow out.
In the background, the chef was entertaining some friends, drinking wine and laughing a lot. It made for a very convivial atmosphere.
During the course of the meal, we talked a bit to the waiter, who turned out to have worked in London and spoke good English. He was the main sommelier of the restaurant and he and my husband discussed wines.
At the end of the meal, he brought a very special white wine to the table for my husband to sample (I don’t drink much but had one taste).
All very pleasing.
Goodbyes
As we were leaving, I shook the chef’s hand and thanked him for opening the restaurant for us. He said he was happy to have given me a nice birthday.
I then said, because I am never modest about my age, that I was 83.
He looked at me again. Indeed, he asked me to repeat it, perhaps because my French is not all that perfect, perhaps because I don’t look as old as I am.
And then he smiled at me and said “Ah, Madame – vous êtes un Pétrus!” Which in case you don’t know is a very, very fine wine, said to be one of the best wines in the world. It is normally drunk aged – sometimes more than fifty years. And it is hugely expensive, way beyond anything I can afford.
What a lovely compliment from a complete stranger.
I will remember my 83rd birthday forever.
PS. To give the chef a small bit of free advertising for his efforts on our part, the restaurant is called Pierre Sang (the name of the chef), and it is in the 11th arrondissement of Paris. Highly recommended.
Let’s Have a Conversation:
What is the most memorable birthday story you remember? Have you had other special occasions like this? What were they? Have you been given unusual compliments? Do tell.
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