I was woken on The Birthday by a strange and very loud noise, that I quickly realised was the opening strains to The Final Countdown. At which point The Housemate burst into The Bedroom dressed as Gob Bluth à la Arrested Development and proceeded to perform a terrible magic show, involving throwing pennies at me, a stupid card trick (sorry, illusion) and the materialisation of a birthday card and birthday present.
It was the best start to a birthday. Ever. (So far.)
Otherwise it was a quiet birthday. But a good birthday.
The Mother took me clothes shopping, which I no longer consider a punishment.
The one thing I really really need is a new jumper.
Birthday Clothes |
We didn’t get a jumper.
The Father invited me to dinner at his house among much panic of what on Earth they could serve for dinner now I’ve gone vegetarian-plus (also known as vegan) even though every time I have been to The Father’s house in the last five years I have been given a baked potato with salad.
And The Housemate ‘organised’ a picnic
(where we saw this lovely bin) |
with surprise guests
and he made V food
Birthday Brownies |
Birthday Sausage Rolls |
and V birthday cake
It’s a shovel, not a fish, by the way.
Because The Shovel has always been my weapon of choice.
I got this many cards:
And loads of presents:
Birthday Books (although technically All Points North is a nine month belated Christmas present) |
Birthday Films |
Birthday TV Programmes (although Spin City is region 1 and so doesn't work) |
Birthday Music |
OTHER (a key ring of Andrew Lancel, tickets to see Dara O Briain and some birthday money) |
birthday money which I didn’t use to buy these
although I wanted to.
And that pretty much sums up my birthday.
Except for the 12 hour Avengers-a-thon…
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