Jack cuts the cake, Salvador checks out his hat

(Jack's moustache is due to the Peruvian tradition of 'biting the cake')

Today I decided on some long overdue archaeology by sorting out our lock up.
This largely consisted of filling a black bag with old bills, skanky clothes and general rubbish.
Much of this stuff had lain untouched since 2001 and amongst the crud was the occasional bit of gold dust.
Amongst the best were a couple of drafts of emails I sent to Esther from Galapagos using the most bizarre Spanish imaginable.
But the real treasure was a sheaf of my diaries from the rehab which made very peculiar reading.
Swinging between confusion, aggression and serenity, they summed up the utter turmoil my brain was in at the time.
Some of the entries were hilarious, some very sad and some just odd.
When I was in Highwood House I used to wonder what my therapised persona would make of my drunken incarnation should they ever meet.
Now I wonder what I would make of both of them at a three way meeting, I think I would need to take a gun with me.
Whilst a period in therapy had a very positive effect on me, some of my ramblings before I was let loose on the outside world are quite scary.
These pearls of wisdom coupled with some letters from my friends in the months after I left England, fascinated me this morning and made me really reflect on where I am now.
All of this was pre-Esther, pre-Moni and pre-Salvador, the three of them unimaginable as I languished in Bristol dreaming of Peru.
It was quite exciting wondering what this snapshot of my life in 2000/2001 would throw up next.
This afternoon we went to Jack's 4th birthday party at Jane's house in San Blas.
Everything was going fine for an hour or so then the kids started screeching and hollering, at the same moment Esther looked at the bowl of sweets provided for them. Interesting that the treats all contained a liquid centre of aniseed liqueur, which seemed to meet the approval of all the little ones charging around the house at a hundred miles an hour.