Today we awoke to a different celebration, Big Claire’s birthday.

It had already started in our tomorrow back home in New Zealand which was our yesterday here today! Now that took a bit of thinking to get that accurate.

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The giving of a gift smuggled into the gear we carried the last day cycling to spoilt me beloved; the waking up in a hostel bunk bed where just a couple of hours earlier the ones in the room above could be heard stretching springs shagging; the leaning over to give that birthday pash to cod smelling breath from kissing a cod the night before; the two flights of stairs walked down and up and back down (forgot the friggin tea bag) and back up again with a cuppa in bed; waving frantically after scorching the toast so as not to set off the fire alarm in the hostel kitchen (why does toast always do that?) so as not to have the men in uniform from the fire brigade with bells and tassles arrive; going out for brunch with Marcus and Ken who’s testoterone levels are out of whack from too much time spent upon a bike seat and no, they weren’t the ones sharing the room above us; peddalling the rig back and forth to the bike shop twice without bike shorts on sensitive bits to work through logistical strategy of shipping the bike off the island; visiting the museum and view the harbour entrance from height which disappearred as the rain clouds rolled in; getting to know another hostel guest from the Czechoslovakia who joined us for dinner to share a wheat beer and see a solitary candle be puffed out; to end up back in the bunk and read all the lovely messages from afar wishing Happy Birthday to Big Claire.

If only there was a bath in the hostel to sit and soak in effervescence from the lemon smelling bath bomb gift smuggled.

I really needed that after me beloved milked her turning of age for two whole days!

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