Joyeux anniversaire to us. I'm here, Paris. Staring
at a blank page with a fatigue after moving from
my Wimbledon flat onto a two-bed boat in Chelsea
recently. Yeah, really. What did the universe
see in me? I didn't get to rest in London. There
was always something to do and sort out and I
was happy to get it done. But as soon as I arrived
in Paris and had my 11 p .m. snails at a local
bistro filled with chatty neighbours, I love it,
my body seemed to believe that it was now safe
to shut down. It was a last-minute decision
to spend my birthday here, thanks to my daughter
once again for saying, "you should be in Paris"
about 27 hours before. Quietly, as I like it.
It was quiet and relaxing, with me managing to
calm my excitable Jonny down all day, just about,
and with him spoiling me by allowing me to do
whatever I wanted, just like any other day. I
ate one and three quarters pains au chocolat and
one and a half croissants for breakfast. This
is actually highly unusual, but a girl had a
craving. Opened my wonderful presents. What is
this, Christmas? And if the podcast today sounds
cleaner and more professional, you know who to
blame. Showered at three, picked up another present
from a local vintage jewelry shop, took the metro
across the city and had a lot of the best Tunisian
lamb, couscous and tagine at Chez Hamadi near
my first flat in Paris. Had a digestive walk
along the river in the Latin Quarter. Went to
Théâtre Bouffon in Jaurès to see a mask play in
the evening. Dragged my drowsy body back home,
left the champagne from the parents unopened
in the fridge, and fell asleep. Apart from his
constant restraint (by me) whispered screams of
"happy birthday, baby!" he managed to make it feel
like it was a normal day for me, so I might let
him be around me for my next birthday. I can't
do much about the presents, he randomly gets
me those every now and then. And as for champagne,
I trickle it down my throat whenever I want anyway.
Wow. For someone who doesn't think it necessary
to celebrate her own birthday, she had a lot
to say about it. I'm just grateful, Paris. On
the boat, I have created a tiny corner with a
desk, a red Anglepoise lamp, a few cherished
books (three of them my own) and a Freewrite
Traveler, where the poet feels so at home for
the first time in a very long time and has typed
22 poems in Indonesian and English within three
days in preparation for the republishing of my
second book published 20 years ago. 44 to go
and I haven't written a new one for a month.
I'm not that prolific--you're welcome. Who cares
about the boaty problems -- water supply, drainage,
power trips, temps clippers passing and making
waves -- when I can think loudly and peacefully
in between getting my hands dirty, or wet, usually!
I'm grateful that the kids are fine with my tentative
life and have even promised, again, to do a sketch
or a painting each as a present--what are artists
like when being commissioned? I'm grateful for
my friends old and new who have witnessed and are
still witnessing my journey gracefully, having
not been invited to my birthday party once. I'm
grateful for my mildly annoying boyfriend who
says he loves me every day and often proves it.
Though mostly in my mind, I'm grateful that exactly
one year after my return to you, we're still
walking the cobbled streets together. Joyeux anniversaire,
to us! Paris, le 2 octobre 2021. Je t 'embrasse.