Birthdays come, and birthdays go - while Mr B remains resolutely unimpressed by my efforts to force him to celebrate. Or so he says...
I like to think that he is secretly
pleased that I haven't taken him at his word and declared our home a Birthday Free Zone.
Today's celebrations got off to a sticky start. Quite literally, because my carefully wrapped presents proved almost
impossible to unwrap, given the fact that the elegantly designed gold end silver gift wrap had been secured with - yes, you've guessed it - Lashings of Sellotape. Mr B had to resort to the kitchen scissors to find a way inside the wrapping paper and uncover
the Presents Within. I could only cross my fingers and hope that he would consider my presents Worth The Effort.
I felt a little guilty, spending so much time in the kitchen this morning, rather than entertaining
the Birthday Boy. I think he was probably quite relieved. Me? I was busy preparing a birthday lunch for our friends Delia and Jim, and baking a cake. Yes, you're right, it was exactly the same cake as I always bake for birthdays, the only difference being
the decorations on top. The recipe is one of the Delightful Delia's - as in Delia the renowned cook, you understand, rather than Delia who came to dinner - though she is just as delightful, if not more so, than she of the cook books.
We might have been six for dinner, had our friend Sallie not conspired to break her leg in three places and end up in hospital. I am tempted to say why break your leg in one place, when you could break it in three - but then that's
not even remotely funny, is it? I have only ever broken one bone in the whole of my life and that was a mere toe, so I am in total awe of anyone who manages to break so many bones and still be photographed smiling from a hospital bed. Get well soon, Sal!
I was pleased with the way our Birthday Lunch turned out, though I say so myself as shouldn't. Mr B was suitably mellowed by a pre-lunch glass of sherry to allow me to take a photograph to record the happy scene, even
though this delayed by a few important minutes the actual lifting of roast lamb-laden fork to mouth. As you can imagine, I had to snap away quickly before the mellowness wore off.
Atop my cake, one of those
candles which plays Happy Birthday until you turn it off. I liked the way it kind of announced itself as I carried the cake from kitchen to dining room. Mr B stifled a groan but allowed another photograph to be taken....
Lots of telephone calls today. Several tuneful (or otherwise) renditions of Happy Birthday carolled across the miles. Lots of birthday cards, a good few of them picking up on Mr B's less than enthusiastic approach to Marking The Day. " Another Year,
another birthday, Dad," read the card from Our Boy and his family. And, beneath the picture of a lugubrious looking gorilla: " Try to contain your excitement..."
I am satisfied that, all things considered,
we have celebrated Mr B's birthday in a certain style. Even Mr B admits that he has enjoyed himself. In his fashion, in his way.
I decide it is not the moment to remind him that this time next year we will
do it All Over Again.