And lo, it was sunny. Having picked the date not for numerological reasons of 7/7/7 significance, but mostly because it was her birthday, I believe, she definitely lucked out with the weather. I had an idyllic Saturday afternoon and evening as the warmth of the day gradually faded to the sound of kids playing football in the garden, and people indulged in champagne and a hog roast and Eton mess and other delights.
I also met a bloke who was recently back from Borneo, having been shooting a TV show called Vet Safari for BBC 1, which he pretty much singlehandedly shoots and edits. We nattered about all the technology that's recently started making it possible for one bloke to do all this stuff, rather than a big team of different experts.
Apparently the episode he'd just finished cutting together will be on in a few weeks, and features Orang-utans and pygmy elephants. The series as a whole sounded good, so I think I'll be looking out for it -- looks like it's on tomorrow, in fact.
I left after the fireworks, and stayed in (fairly nearby) Swindon overnight, with Hal and Rowly, and then had lunch with them on Sunday before coming home. Again, lovely weather and a lunch in a pub garden actually made it feel a bit like summer, really for the first time this year.
Speaking of which, at work today the first email came around about the company Christmas meal.
I suppose I should take this as an opportunity to revive some of my vague ideas and doubts from last year, and start getting my ideas together about Christmas, and how I feel about it (generally annoyed and resentful) and how it fits into my life (not much, as a decreasingly-consumerist atheist) and what I can best do to (a) stop myself getting depressed by it, and (b) have a Christmas which comes somewhere near to fitting in with my beliefs, while (c) not appearing too Scrooge-like.
But really I just want to stick my fingers in my ears and say "lalala" and pretend nobody mentioned it. In July.