Monday, June 27, 2016

John's birthday

When John and I first got together in the early 1970s in Edmonton, we celebrated birthdays at the venerable King Edward Hotel. Our wages at the Edmonton Journal were pitiful and I had a student loan to pay off, but we splurged. We drank wine in the hotel's darkly elegant dining room, enjoying the candlelight and white tablecloths. We ate filet mignon.

On Monday, when John turned 71, we celebrated by driving to our favourite coffee and sandwich shop at Britannia Beach, partway to Squamish. John had a double espresso and a vegetarian sandwich and I had a small Americano and a turkey-and-brie panini. The dessert was not Baked Alaska, but a shared slice of Saran-wrapped banana bread.

Tastes change over the years. No candlelight, no white tablecloths, but a fine view of ocean and mountains out of the coffee shop's old wooden windows. We were quite as happy as we were with filet mignon.

John's birthday cake was a slice of  banana bread. We shared it.

The coffee shop's view of mountains and ocean; our preference over a fancy dining room. 

For us, the best part of birthdays is a fresh supply of books.

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