Birthday Boy

On Sunday it was my 24th birthday. As I hurtled into my 25th year on this earth, I began to look ahead to what it might have in store.

My move to Canada is coming up frighteningly quick. It always seemed like something on the horizon. I was aware of it but isn't quite tangible yet. This is understandable.

(Ian and myself locked in mortal swingball combat)

We are still busy at work and carrying on with our normal routines. However when Ian said yesterday that we had exactly 11 weeks left and he hadn't even got the flights booked yet, I started to feel my stomach turn with a pang of anxiety.

Always good in a crisis (my life seems to consist of bounding from one small crisis to another), I dropped everything I was doing related to my paid employment, and got on the old
"dog and bone" to get things sorted. Panic over: probably until the weeks get into single figures at least.

My Birthday itself was great. I got up early after a night down the Old Maypole Pub with the boys (A George Michael sing-a-like performed the usual medley of hits to keep us entertained). I cut the grass! However the excitement didn't end there.

At about 3pm Mum Dad my 2 sisters and Ian had been invited around to Chris and Dougs house for a BBQ with their children and their partners. Chris being the hostess with the mostess and Doug with the almost in-exhaustible wine cellar, make a team that ensured that the evening would last long into the night.

It did!

Rather worse for ware after a few bottles of vintage oak barreled red, I headed home declaring my love for everyone. I got to bed told it I loved it, and awaited my morning punishment for my excesses of the previous day. I would take my punishment like a man, with a little help from Nurofen. I had had a brilliant time and so had everybody else. I even got my own flypast from the Red Arrows. It's just sheer coincidence that the VE celebration were going on down the road at the same time. Still, they killed two birds with one stone.