Romantic Danube is a piece of cake

RECENTLY I was taken to Budapest by my son to celebrate my 94th birthday. From my hotel room window, I looked over the tree tops at the vast expanse of the city and down on the trams and trains. Heading down to breakfast, three men in reception wished me a happy birthday. How did they know? Not wanting to take our shopping on a hop-on,-hop-off bus tour, we took it back to the hotel. Two cleaners also wished me a happy birthday. One hugged me. When I opened my door I could not believe it. There on the breakfast bar was a bottle of wine tied with red, white and blue ribbon, 11 fancy biscuits and a card wishing me a happy birthday. The evening sun was still shining when we boarded an open-sided boat for an evening meal on the Danube. Is there a more brilliant sight than tables with white cloths, sparkling glasses and cutlery? As the city lights reflected on the water, we drank champagne. Then the waitress came with two slices of chocolate cake arranged with strawberries and candles shaped in a nine and four. A guitarist accompanied a lady singing Happy Birthday. Other passengers raised glasses. It brought tears to my eyes; what a way for a 94-year-old great-grandma to celebrate. The waitress asked if I’d like