Sadly with Chris approximately 4,012 miles away in Uganda the celebrations were looking a little thin on the ground. But then my cool city friend, Lesley, drove down from London yesterday afternoon and we sat on the sofa until the small hours gossiping and catching up. She recently climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and regaled me with her story. Pathetically I can't think of anything worse than climbing in the rain and wind, but as she spoke about reaching the summit and the raw emotion she felt, I was on the verge of tears let alone sheer exhaustion. She didn't say it, but I think it was my charitable donation that inspired her to get her arse to the top.
Then earlier this morning as we sat at the breakfast table full of sleepy Sunday eyes and covered in newsprint a bunch of friends dropped by to catch up over steaming mugs of tea. We discussed the tsunami in Japan, London living, my due date and marvelled at how grown up 2 year old Oscar looked. I caught a whiff of booze and looked to my friend Dan - he remained on the other side of the table and reeked of hungover-ness. His pain a stark reminder that alcohol is the drink of the devil and that I will never, ever consume it to excess again. How pure I am right now, pure, but full of cheese and transparent contradictions.
So I gave Chris the benefit of the doubt (ahhh haaa) and thought being 3 hours ahead of GMT the anniversary text messages he had no doubt sent this morning had clogged up the network. Surprisingly the magical one and only did arrive and we spoke a short while ago amid wild jubilation's and celebrations. Aside from today's carry on he's been sorting out accounts and getting the truck filled with materials and supplies before he returns to Murchison tomorrow. Three months is a long time to leave a project, especially one as big as what we've bitten off, but then the reality is a much bigger and important project, our own family.
I found out that a traditional anniversary gift for seven years doesn't involve any precious jewels, just a bit of wool or copper.
Wool eh, thankfully after seven amazing years there's still no sign of any itch.