Here at the hotel we are staying at, they love to celebrate your birthday with you, which is nice…
Falling in February, husband’s birthday was the first one to be enjoyed. I asked the staff at the front desk if they could advise me where to get a good birthday cake and the lovely Abinaya said that they had already arranged a cake and would deliver it on the day. Wonderful, I thought. Sorted.
That night, there was a knock at the door. The entire marketing staff were there with a black forest, mock cream cake and a present. They came in and sang happy birthday. My husband deflected the attention on to Millar and the staff got confused and sang happy birthday to him and gave him the present and then they fed Millar a piece of cake by hand. This is the custom here. I have seen photos of the staff hand feeding other guests cake and it’s quite strange to me. It even looks awkward in photos.
On Millar’s birthday, we had arranged our own cake, but they still came up with the black forest mock cream cake and singing happy birthday. Millar loved it. This time there was no hand feeding.
By the time my birthday rolled around I was wise to this tradition and I left up the “do no disturb” sign all day. But the simple act of ordering Chinese alerted the staff to the fact that being disturbed was negotiable so they called the room, told my husband they had a package and came in with the black forest mock cream cake.
This was after 9pm. I had had my dinner and was on my 2nd glass of birthday wine. My pants were rolled up and I was suffering from a red wine hot flash and looking gorgeous in my sweaty after dinner red wine glow. I was not ready for guests.
Also, at that time of night I guess there wasn’t a lot of staff around because the people there to sing to me were the night porter, the night shift house-keeping guy – who took a houskeeping call on his mobile in between singing and being awkward – and the gym guy.
I don’t like being the centre of attention at the best of times, but even more so when I look like crap and when it’s awkward. and I did, and it was.
Thank fuck there was no hand feeding.