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Thursday, January 23, 2014

(It Was) Happy Birthday To Me



So I turned 34.  No car, no mortgage, no wife, no children, no caravan but enjoying my life.  Up yours societal expectations!

Having a birthday in January, a week before payday is arguably the worst time of the year to have one.  But I am slowly growing to appreciate it in my wanting to be different kind of way.

I did want a few days off work but alas, circumstances didn’t turn out to allow it but I would only have been stuck at home by myself, and I work with nice people (I am not saying that just because a few of them will probably read this) so I brought in a load of cakes.  I had 5 cakes.  Still plenty left this morning.

 
I spent the whole day pretty much listening to my own DJmixes.  If I cannot be self-indulgent on James Winfield Day (still to be officially renamed but it is on the cards, I am King after all) then when can I?

I got some really good birthday cards, including this one from my auntie who knows my television viewing habits well:

 
And this one from my housemate who clearly understands my music taste:


Or maybe it is just a last stand from my brilliant housemate as I may finally be starting to convert him to the delights of house music after 18 months of him fighting it.

And last but definitely not least, this card so brilliant that my wonderful friend, Ellie, sent it not once but twice.  Is it just me or is one a marginally darker shade than the other?

 
I also got some shower gel so hopefully I won’t smell too much on Saturday night.  And some money to buy a ticket to Steve Lawler to celebrate my birthday more, hint hint hint come dancing with me on Saturday night, da da dee da.


It is in my collection and I will play it out one day!

My enjoyment of James Winfield Day continued.  At work I set a new record by sending 23 disconnection notices in one day.  And I got a lift home.

For the evening I had dinner cooked for me.  A roast chicken dinner and it was very good, especially considering it was the second-ever attempt by my second-favourite immigrant (I can imagine the Daily Mail headlines now – EU Immigrant Steals English Recipe).

 
I know what you are all thinking…how was the gravy?

It was home-made, mixed with Bisto.

I was quietly impressed.  Perhaps not so quiet as I did have a bit of wine.  Well, it was my birthday.

Actually it was possibly better than Goldenfry.

And as a final birthday present, Man United lost a penalty shoot-out which always puts a smile on any right-thinking person’s face.

Now comes the payback.  Sleepless, hungover with customers pissed off with my love letters.  I even drunkenly agreed to go for a run tonight, I am praying for a volcanic eruption or something to save me.  WTF was I thinking?  Damn you wine, damn you.

Not to mention the 100 Facebook messages that I am very greatful for - I will be individually responding to - yeah I could do a generic thank you but I am different.  If someone has taken the time to wish me a happy birthday, the least I can do is respond to them directly.