Happy Birthday, Kev and Bill!

Happy Birthday You Two!

This photo was taken 3 weeks ago in Geneva. They had placed a soccer ball to look like the jet d’eau was keeping it afloat. It was to welcome the UEFA teams which were competing in Geneva this month.

Hope you both have a wonderful day! Happy Birthday!

Bonny

happy birthday Bill+

“We didn’t know Bill had this hobby”

Happy Birthday Bill and may all your days make you feel like you’re 21 again+

/michael

Happy Birthday Kev – A True Rockstar!!

Have a rock ‘n’ rollicking good day!

Hope you’re not too ‘past it’ to throw a party! Hehe!

Thanks for those lessons in bass guitar-ology.

Cant believe you and Miki have your birthday’s only a few days apart.. maybe that’s the key to a blissful relationship?!

Best wishes, love ‘Supe’.

Rock on!!

 

Ah…the memories!

Miki’s wonderful birthday message was accompanied today by a lovely photo of us, taken last year on our trip through France, Spain and England up to Scotland. It really had me reminiscing (it must be something you do more of when you reach 50) and I decided to pull out my journal for the very day that photo was taken, and share it with you all….

Day Nine – Ain’t no mountain high enough – 17/07/07

The following day, invigorated by the athleticism displayed in our canoeing trip, we took the bikes out yet again and headed for the village of Domme. A wonderful lazy ride followed, crossing yet another bridge over the Dordogne, and then, a little over 2 kilometres from Domme, the road took a turn to the left, and up. I mean seriously up. This was like climbing the north face of Annapurna. (If indeed Annapurna has a north face.)

We got off and walked. Forever. On the verge of requiring CPR, we reached the tiny gate to Domme, noting that our motorhome would have been a tight, if not impossible, fit. This discovery went some way towards placating us with regard to the decision to use the bikes.

The rather tasty chocolate crepe in the first café we came upon notwithstanding, the village itself was a crushing disappointment to this writer, at any rate. Domme seems to have overstepped that invisible line between good taste and rampant commercialism. There are shops selling art from Zanzibar, there are shops selling FBI caps. There is, if you can believe it, a stupid bloody tourist train like something from Benidorm or Blackpool for God’s sake. The simple question is, “Why?” the answer, similarly short and to the point, is of course, “Money.”

These people have sacrificed their soul on the bloody altar of commercialism, and their village is the poorer for it. We left, swiftly (for it was downhill all the way) nevermore to return, and prepared to set off for an altogether more serene village, St. Lyon sur Vezere. Before we take our leave in search of the aforementioned village, I feel I must report to you, dear reader, an unseemly incident that took place prior to our egress from our trashy trailer park. As I was evacuating our waste water tanks, a French couple in an adjacent motorhome loudly proclaimed, “OOO, What a stink! Quickly, Jacques, ferme la Porte before it gets in!” (I’ve only translated partly, so as to give you a little bit of local colour)

This is as a red rag to a bull for me. These kinds of people always moan loud enough to be heard, but never have the balls to say it to your face. “We all smell the same, missus!” I shouted at her retreating bourgeois back, feeling ever so slightly the Englishman abroad.

A brief and unpleasant flirtation with the traffic system in Sarlat convinced us to push on to St. Lyon, and we were not disappointed. We found a spot just a stone’s throw from our new river, the Vezere. We spent an hour or two wandering the small streets, viewing the village from the bridge over the river, and discovering the wonderful buildings, a grand chateau, an imposing Church, and a mysterious large manor house of some kind, set in spacious grounds, our curiosity kept at bay by a pair of large ornate wrought iron gates.

A quite delightful sleepy village…and guess what? We’re out in the canoes again tomorrow to conquer yet another mighty waterway. We laugh in the face of aquatic challenges! (Like emptying the waste water tank in front of a**holes)

– I’m also adding a photo from the same trip (this from Quiberville on the Northern French coast – to show how determined I am not to grow up!

Kev Moore

Happy birthday Bill!

You share your birthday with an irresponsible rocker, did you know that?  I’m sure you’re many years younger than me, even though we both turned up on 20th May, so I expect to see you up onstage with us at the next gig, possibly performing a ZZ Top number, as you seem to carry off the beard and hat look quite well. For my part, having now reached the magical half-century, I feel obliged to issue all publicity photos in sepia-tinged Victoriana, as befitting my newly acquired senior status. Have a good one!

Kev Moore

Happy Birthday Kev Moore!

by Miki

Good Morning, dear Cafe Creamers!

It is an important day today here and in the UK, so important that it has been declared National Day in both countries:

Kev Moore is becoming 50 today!

Yes: 50!

It sounds awful, he says, but I swear you, Kevin wears his whole 50 years with an incredible youth, in fact I never met such a young man as him! Kevin’s whole personality is surely as frish as at the very first moment he came to this wonderful world. You want a proof? Go to one of his concerts, and listen to him screaming!

Kevin, I wish you a wonderful birthday, full of all the stuff you love, and I want to thank you for all the happiness you give me, every second of our life since I met you, and for making me feel myself as the youngest girl of the Universe! I am infinitely happy to spend this day with you,

and I am booking here your next 50 years,

and all the other 50 years after too!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!