Yesterday my sister turned thirty. Anyone who doesn’t know my sister will think it’s no big deal but whoever does will know how big a deal it was. Just to give you an idea, she’s been mentioning this birthday for the past two years. It was her lucky birthday and the start to her thirties, which to her warranted a big celebration. And that’s just what she got! Her husband and mine got their heads together and organised an evening full of surprises for her and I’m sure they surpassed anything she had been imagining.
She thought that we were going to dinner at a posh restaurant five minutes from our parents’ house (ok, everywhere is more or less five minutes away on this rock), just the four of us. What she got was:
- being picked up by a double decker bus where some of her closest friends were waiting for her, shouting out her name (all of them purple in the face with laughter at seeing her reaction);
- being taken for a panoramic tour with the driver shouting “Happy birthday Charmaine!” on the microphone while we were passing through the busiest roads of the island;
- a party in a historical tower in Dwejra, one of the most beautiful places we have in this country;
- a show by fire jugglers;
- the cake she’s been dreaming about since she first saw its picture.
My sister isn’t easily impressed (she’s the one with designer accessories and the mother of a cochlear implantee…what could possibly impress a tough cookie like her?) but she most definitely was impressed yesterday. I kept catching her with her mouth open in awe. She deserved this and more.