It has come to my attention that you - despite your supposed charm - have not made a single attempt to ask me what I want for my birthday, which is unacceptable. Do you even know what day it is? (What a terrible husband you will be, not remembering something as simple as one's birth!)

Well, you're in luck that I'm in a good mood, so I'll tell you what I want: I want the sea. Sand in my toes, sun on my skin, and expensive wine to drink. In fact, you can bring that as well. I'll bring a picnic, or something to that effect. I'll even make it easy and say that Sanditon is good enough for me.

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