It was the one element of Mr B's birthday that I couldn't plan. Would his beloved Spurs emerge triumphant from their FA Cup match against Leicester this afternoon? If they failed it would quite spoil the Birthday Boy's
Mr B claims, with some evidence to back his assertion, that I take far greater pleasure in his birthday than he does. Why else, he might have challenged, did I insist that he should wait until I rose
from my bed before he opened the little pile of birthday cards awaiting his attention? As regular readers know, Mr B would prefer to forget all about his birthday. This is nothing at all to do with him reaching a Great Age; he took exactly the same stance
on his 20th birthday, the very first one he shared with me.
I should have been warned but, dear reader, I thought I could change him. Not in any major way, you understand, just in accepting that birthdays
are special days, to be celebrated in some style. Fifty-two years later, I think I might just have to accept defeat...
Oh, dear me, no! my inner warrior protests. One last battle charge at least.
So I arranged for us to have lunch at Food, one of our favourite restaurants in our home town of Worthing. Do you remember what I said yesterday about liking places with names that spell out clearly exactly what you
can expect when you step over the threshold? Food is a Fine Example.
We were shown to a table by the window which was good because I could check that my car was okay, parked right outside - and not being stalked
by a sneaky traffic warden. Since Friday's unhappy experience with a Parking Infringement Notice I have lost some of my confidence in our Blue Badge's power to help us park nearer to our destination. At Mr B's insistence, I took the seat with the view of the
car while he sat opposite me where he was able to keep a watchful eye on the comings and goings of our fellow diners. Unfortunately this meant that I was not able to gather as much material as usual for the enlivenment of my readers. It was, however, his birthday
so I reasoned that he could sit where he liked. As my dear Dad always used to say: "What's the good of a birthday if you can't do what you like?"
We both had a roast lamb dinner. It was delicious, thank you.
Mr B had a couple of glasses of red wine, I had orange juice and lemonade. So full were we by the time we had cleared our plates that we passed on the desserts and went straight for the coffee. The Birthday Boy was beaming broadly which I took to indicate
that he had enjoyed himself. Even if it was his birthday.
Yesterday when paying for our lunch in a local cafe (if you read Saturday's blog, you will remember we had been out buying trousers, Mr B's Present
of Choice), I noticed some scrumptious looking cupcakes on a cake stand on the counter. Hastily, while Mr B's back was turned, I purchased one chocolate cupcake and one vanilla-flavoured. I am planning to make a full-size birthday cake for next Saturday when
the Darling Daughters and the two eldest Darling Granddaughters will be around to help me sing a rousing Happy Birthday - but what kind of birthday would it be without a cake? Or two? Especially cupcakes which, everybody knows, are small and perfectly formed.
At half-time in the footie (Spurs were 2-1 down and I was getting worried) I retrieved the cupcakes from the fridge where I had hidden them and adorned each one with a candle. I then spent a stressful five minutes trying
to light the candles with one of Mr B's old lighters before giving up and deciding that, poor form though it might be, the Birthday Boy would just have to light his own candles. As Mr B commented, dryly, you can't get the wives these days...
All I needed was for Spurs to win. It was looking dicey, I can tell you. Had they lost, all my efforts to give my fella a memorable day would have failed. Or, even worse, it would be remembered for all the wrong reasons.
When Harry Kane stepped up to take a penalty, my heart was - along with my cupcake - in my mouth. Words cannot describe my relief. Thanks in no small part to Harry - who is now officially a Hero in My Eyes - I think
I can safely say Mr B enjoyed his birthday.
Cards and loving messages (including a hilarious FaceTime with the Not So Little Welsh Boys), lunch out, Spurs on TV and a couple of cupcakes. What's not to like?
I ask him. Even if he did have to light his own candles. Happy Birthday, Mr B with my best love.
Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Always.