One crap present

By the time I checked my emails this morning and found this link sent by a friend, I’d already had my birthday bop around the house. But it’s a cool video with the song.

Yes, it’s my birthday.

One of the two days a year (unless it’s sub zero outside) that I light the fire first thing in the morning. (The other day, not surprisingly, is Christmas.)

My totally crap birthday present is the clocks changing last night, so it will be dark at 5pm for months. My least favourite day of the year, as I’ve said before.

Birthday brunch…

Too much of a faff to do Eggs Benny just for me, so I went for French toast with blueberry and maple syrup sauce, along with a (non-alcoholic) Buck’s Fizz. Before you ask, the roses are a present from me to me. (Who the hell else was going to buy me roses?) 

The Mark Billingham novel (which is pretty good so far) is a bit of a mystery. It arrived in the post a couple of days ago with no message. I have no recollection of ordering this, although I did check back on my Book Depository orders. Nope. So, a present from someone, but whom?

The books I did actually order as presents for myself (the three William McIlvanney Laidlaw novels and the Laidlaw Ian Rankin’s just published) have yet to arrive, so the Billingham is a blessing.

The jays put on a good brunch show at the feeder.

Unfortunately I wasn’t quick enough with the camera to catch this one. The blue blur at the bottom is him flying away with a peanut in his mouth.

A photo this morning purporting to be Georgie wishing me a happy birthday.

I’ll take that.

Lots of Facebook messages. (My thanks to Catherine, the only person to get an actual card in the post in time.) And a thank you to those who sent them.

Dinner tonight with some friends at my favourite restaurant. 

All things considered (except for the bloody clock change), a pretty fine birthday.