Yesterday was my parents’ 28th wedding anniversary. The joke was always: “we got married on Independence Day for the irony”. It was another of those difficult days, when we were very conscious of the canyon-like hole in our lives.
First thing, we went to visit mum, take some flowers. It feels therapeutic, quiet – see where she’s resting, tell her our plan for the day. Tell her how much we love her.
Coming home, we packed a picnic and went to Fulham Palace. The weather was beautiful, and we found a shady spot under a tree.
In usual Jichev occasions style, we booked Temple at the Donmar. Overall, good play – Simon Russell Beale is always a favourite, interesting tension between progressive and conservative elements of CofE. Some of the other characters could have been developed more, but we enjoyed it.
This was all followed up by moules et frites at Belgo Centraal opposite. We ordered our usuals, from many post theatre dinners past. Dad told us more about their wedding day, the plan for a small wedding and over 100 guests rocking up. All about the fusion of music – Russian, English, Bulgarian, French, Italian… The little bridesmaids who fell in the sea during the reception.
It was lovely, and mum was with us all the way. In a different way, but nevertheless with us.