baked expectations

Yesterday was one of my personal favorite holidays, that is, the triple-birthday of Chelle, G-ma, and me. That's right--twenty one years and I'm still kickin'! Despite being the golden age for most American college students, the usual significance attributed to turning twenty one is sort of lost here in the UK. Although, one of my stairmates did inform me that I can now legally take out a mortgage in England. Useful.

I hope that you shall all be delighted to know that I spent the majority of the day doing things of the utmost triviality and self-indulgence, and had the most lovely morning helped along by the well-wishing and generosity of so many others here. It was truly delightful--A THOUSAND THANK YOUS TO EVERYONE! You guys know who you are.

One of the BEST surprises was at formal hall I was suddenly confronted by candles (in addition to those already afire on the table) and the loud echo of many unrehearsed voices yelling out in unison that most classic of birthday songs. And then I was presented with the biggest cookie EVER. A double chocolate Ben's Cookie the size of (here the proper metaphor eludes me, but it was big and you get the idea). If you have yet to hear me rave about the genius of Ben's Cookies, then now is the time to inform you that it is worth going to Oxford just to have one. And by that I mean pack your bags immediately and get on over here. Do it. According to the seller, this cookie size serves thirty hence the Dickensian allusion in the title of this post. Only Pip never had it so good.

Again, THANK YOU everyone! It all really meant a lot.