50 :)

Welcome to the Pyrenees, people! ⛰️

I know, I know, it is June 6th right now (and June 10th as I'm posting), not May 22nd. And yet, I am still about to write this as if it is the day of!

The reason is simply: I procrastinate like I have been gifted extra time on this planet. However, sometimes I am forced to come to terms with the fact that that is not the case; and so when, for example, mum and dad are saying “where’s day 1 Ruby?” and “why haven’t you written about mum’s birthday, Ruby?” Well, I am forced to take the time on my 5 hour train, which I had initially planned to spend listening to Taylor Swift’s new song on repeat for the entire time, and instead write a blog.

Well, it’s a good thing that I am a talented multitasker! That’s right, I am listening to “I knew it, I knew you” on repeat as I write these very words! Gosh, sometimes procrastinating is worth it.

The morning of our first day in the Pyrenees dawned nice and peacefully. After a late arrival last night (since I literally got on a train to Toulouse as soon as my last exam finished and then from Toulouse we also had an hour or so drive), we were all fairly keen to just unpack essentials and go to bed. Lily and I did stay up a little while so that I could finish making my birthday present (and also start it, yes that’s right, I warned you about my procrastination), and listening to Maisie Peter’s new album.

Of course, since it was mum’s birthday, Lily and I went to give her a good morning hug. The twins, of course, were asleep. Since Olivia Rodrigo had also released a music video, well mum got to spend the first minutes of her fiftieth birthday watching it! How lucky is she?

In fairness, it was entirely her choice.

Soon enough, we woke up the twins, since they were on breakfast duty on this fine day. The twins are renowned in their community (aka our family) for their instagrammable, pinterest boards breakfasts. Not that I ever have instagrammed their breakfast, but the point is, I could. There is delicately spread avocado toast, some healthy fruit such as raspberries and grapes, simply but tastefully arranged, a form of egg (scrambled, mostly), with juice.

We ate it outside because it was just a really nice day, it was sure to get very warm that evening. Breakfast was fun, we laughed and joked, as we do. Dad told us that when we were young, we had a hard time reading clocks, because, well, now it seems simple but teaching it is not as easy as one might think. I mean, the concept of it is foolish: 6 means six but also, it means thirty? Like??

It’s not as simple as it seems.

Anyway, I am only taking such a fervent defense because apparently, every time that dad would teach us to read a watch, he wondered if we were, and I quote, “a bit dim”. Because it takes some time to grasp. But like, hello? How dare he? We were like, four or five?

Anyway, I was outraged. And rightly so.

We realised it would be the first birthday in many years that mum doesn’t have eggs benedict on her birthday, a favourite of hers. It was quite a tragic realisation.

Anyway, after breakfast we cleared up and then debated going for a walk. This *is* a walking holiday after all. However, it was really hot, I was coming down with a bad cold (which I would later pass on to everybody else, effectively causing them to wish the cold had killed me), and it was fairly clear that it was about to be a fairly lazy day.

People went in the pool, reasonable people, so yes, dear reader, that does exclude me. You see, I was really hot, but I didn't want to get in the pool because I couldn’t be bothered.

Look for the logic, you won’t find it.

Instead, I crocheted, working on my butterfly cardigan, lounging next to mum who was reading a murder-mystery book. This inspired me at times to put down the crochet (often when there was a knot in the wool) and pick up my book that I was reading, The reappearance of Rachel Price, which was pretty good.

The time came to give out presents. I was happy to present my frog, made by hand, proof of tireless work and many hours of effort, a lot of commitment and prior thought. It was white, mum’s favourite colour, and grey. See? Effort.

However, I had neglected to cut off the long string at the end. I didn’t have scissors on hand, and had decided to do it later. This, as it turned out, was a rookie mistake. Because of course, I white frog with a long string was made to be hung upside down and christened “tampon frog”. Such disdain. Such lack of respect for my art. I could barely believe my eyes, let alone my ears. I vowed to never make mum a frog again.

However, presents continued on. Allegra and Olivia gave mum a painting of us in Greece, which was perhaps actually proof of tireless work and many hours of effort, a lot of commitment and prior thought. It was honestly amazing, I couldn’t believe they made something so cool. Lily gave mum the yearly timeline, a collection of photos from over the year detailing what we have done, in timeline format, which will join the others on their bedroom wall. And Dad wrote a poem that told of the last decade of their lives, which he read after reading those he had written for mum’s 30th and 40th birthdays. When it was read aloud, tears were shed by 4 family members. I will not say whom.

There was also a frame with 50 family selfies spanning from the birth of the twins to a few months ago, something that mum had been wanting to do for a while. It was pretty cool.

And finally there was a present that was from Dad but also all of us. We had each written ten things we love about mum (so fifty total), and they were written over a collage of photos of mum in a heart. It was pretty cool. Accidentally, one of the things was on there twice; it was one of my reasons, and so I maintain that I just love her more.

We played a fun game where mum had to try and guess who said each thing (they were in no particular order) and it was quite funny how mum doesn’t know allegra at all. Mine however, were fairly specific and were rather easy to guess in the end. Mum did get a little teary eyed about it.

After that, it was more of the same; swimming for the others, reading and crocheting while complaining about the heat for me and mum. Lunch came around soon enough; simple sandwiches and conversations. Mum was very happy because we were all together again.

However, mum was not happy with my sickness, so me, her and dad went into town to see what was up, get some vitamins and some supplies. In the pharmacy, I turned into a typical teenager who doesn't want to do anything, Mum asked me how you say “a cold” in french and I was like “I don’t know, I don’t know” when of course I did, and I don’t even know why. I think I just felt stupid saying “ohh, I have a cold I’m dying what can I possibly do to get better?” But thinking about it now, this is infinitely stupider.

Me, mum and dad found it a little funny how the pharmacists knew the townspeople by name; someone would go up to the register, and they’d just go “ahh, mr [insert name here]! What do you need today?”

Honestly, maybe I've just spent too long in Paris, but I do love anonymity… I feel like I could never live in a tiny town.

Anyway, we then headed into the small shop across the road to get some necessities. This is where tragedy struck. Dad found it funny to keep making me carry things; but I also had my phone and my sunglasses in my hand.

And my phone just slipped. It hit the tiled floor of the shop. Mum picked it up; I couldn’t. “Oh my god, is it broken?” I hear. I give things in my hand to dad. “Nah,” I say, not believing it. Despite my previous phone of the same model smashing four times from small drops, this new one has not broken from being dropped. Hence, I had hopes.

That hope, much like the back of my phone, was shattered.

As you can imagine, this made me an immense disappointment to like, everyone ever. Smashing my phone five times? Granted, the first was not my fault (shoutout Alfredo the Rock that almost killed me), the second was (shoutout our kitchen floor), the third was not (shoutout Dad running it over with a car) and the fourth was (shoutout supermarket floor - not the same one). And now a FIFTH time? This is madness.

Anyway, so after that debacle we drove home, to happier times. Oh yes, people, this does mean birthday cake!!

Sadly, we lacked a lighter, so we bought over the chocolate-avocado cake with un lit candles on them, singing happy birthday (which is like, the hardest song to sing well, why is it the most sung song ever???), and mum pretended to blow them out. A fun (and tasty) time was had by all.

Afterwards, we all lounged outside. Us sisters all went in the jacuzzi, since it cooled down, and Allegra was pretending to be really fancy and posh, holding an imaginary champagne flute, loudly talking about champagne flutes, asking us to hold this imaginary champagne flute, and, when this imaginary flute was dropped, she pretended to search desperately for it in the water. I cannot stress enough that the champagne flute did not exist.

During this time, mum and dad made dinner, which was decided by vote. Unanimously, people said lemon chicken (vegan chicken of course), and so, by rule of democracy, we ended up having spanakopita. Somewhere along the way democracy got lost. What is this, the USA?

Nah, in reality, we just didn’t have the necessary ingredients for lemon chicken. So, you know, at eats we have an excuse (side eyeing you again, America).

But it was pretty damn tasty, so no one was bothered, especially since we had it with a tasty salad made by the twins, and with Allegra’s favourite, you guessed it, champagne, in champagne flutes.

She was pretty happy. It was much better than the faux-flute. However, champagne is not tasty at all.

And after dinner, we went inside as mum listed her top three favourite things of 49, and her top three things she’s looking forward to for 50, as we do. Lily, as Lily does, kept cutting in to talk about herself, give her opinion, which no one was quite sure as to why. Finally, Tate bought that to an end, scathingly but kindly saying “Lily, it’s not your birthday is it? So we don’t care about you, do we?”. We laughed a lot. Lily did too, don’t you worry. It was all in good fun.

We ended the day with just some hanging out, chilling, not playing board games even though that was sort of our main intent. I crocheted and unpicked, the rest of us talked. Mum declared that she wanted a birthday blog, and I did not realise that she meant today would be included, hence the late date. However, I did rise to the challenge, saying that none other but me could do it justice (instant regret the next day when I actually had to write it).

The conversation finally morphed into a recurring one amongst the sisters: what would we do for the sister tattoo we’re getting when the twins turn 18? You may be thinking, what are they doing, the twins are sixteen, they have so much time to think about this.

Yes, but the twins were 14 when we first started talking about it, and two years later, we still have no idea that we can agree on getting permanently inked on to our skin. It comes with having such different aesthetics, I fear.

At some point, Lily thought she had it, leaping out of her chair, exclaiming “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! Penguins!”. Now any Simpson connoisseur will know that we love that film, that there are 4 penguins, and that each sister is attributed one penguin to “be”. Lily thought we could get the outline of that penguin on our skin.

While I understand the appeal for her (she has many small knick-knack style tattoos and that one would fit right in), for the rest of us, who plan on maybe only ever getting that one tattoo, it would be ridiculous to have the outline of a penguin of Madagascar. Can you even imagine?

Lily could not grasp this concept.

It dissolved into a small argument, which was more banter really, and then the conversation just tapered out as it tends to do.

Mum and dad, who had been listening, bemused (what a word!) eventually decided they were tired and wanted to go to bed. This had been such a nice relaxing day, Mum loved it and had a happy birthday, what more could you ask for?

But here we are. At the end of the day, feet (not) aching and hearts warm.

See you tomorrow!Read more