Happy Birthday to me!
Yes, another year has passed, and today I hit 39.
This means that I have 364 days left of telling people ‘I’m in my thirties’; which I’m sure you all know means ‘young’. From 24th July next year, I shall have start telling people ‘Just turned forty’ and watch as they start checking me out for Clarks’ sandals and comfy cardies (by the way, Amanda has a pair of Clarks’ sandals. Just sayin’.). Of course, I could always do what my Uncle John did – he went from thirty-nine to thirty-ten, thirty-eleven, thirty-twelve….
I’ve had a splendiferous day, though. After a brief visit from my parents (during which they told me I was going to die young) we went out (Self, Amanda, Stig, Friend of Stig and Mr Fish the boy-next-door) to the seaside for the day. When I say seaside I should confess that I mean Weston-Super-Mare, and that as Amanda pointed out, even once we were parked on the beach we were most decidedly NOT beside the sea. The sea was about twenty miles out and seemed to be heading for the shores of North America at a fair old lick.
But we sat on the beach and fried our little brains for a bit, then we had an ice-cream, then we buried the boy-next-door in the sand. We had to dig him up again though ‘cos he was complaining that his bollocks were going numb in the cold sand.
Then we had chips, walked a million miles back along the prom to where we had parked the car (which incidentally was practically in the next county), and came home to de-sand. That stuff gets EVERYWHERE.
I’ve never been so knackered in my life! How on earth do all the little old dinks manage? They’re always to be seen pottering up and down the seafront, and they seem to thrive on it – Amanda and I look like a pair of used dishcloths this evening!
Anyway, thankyou to all the lovely chaps and chapettes who sent me birthday wishes, I’m off to update the age on my website before I get accused of false advertising!