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Prosecco and profanity

November 7, 2022

Well, this isn’t bad considering I haven’t even been to the post box yet to see if anything else has arrived for my actual birthday.

Two themes seem to have emerged in the cards I opened last night whilst out having a day-before-my-birthday with friends and the ones I opened in bed this morning.

Two cards featuring my favourite profanity.

Two cards that mentioned bubbly (one of which contained money for purchase of same!).

I guess my friends know me.

Multiple books are always welcome – especially (but by no means limited to) the friend who can always be relied upon to get me the latest Rebus. (And, of course, a thank you to Ian Rankin who can be relied upon to produce a book just in time for my birthday every year.)

Definitely a two day birthday this year. It was meant to kick off yesterday evening with a dinner with friends at my favourite restaurant on the island. A phone call yesterday morning informed me that the weekend’s power failure had somehow resulted in the failure of their septic system, so all reservations cancelled. Not much I could do about it, other than alert the other diners, as I had to head out for a rehearsal. One of said diners took the initiative and rebooked the dinner at another eatery.

At the end of the rehearsal the producer took it upon herself to inform the cast that it was going to be my birthday today and thus I was serenaded with ‘Happy Birthday To You’, which was really quite lovely, not least because there are some excellent singers involved in this panto. (As I commented afterwards, definitely a notch up from past renditions by half a dozen mates at the end of an evening of drinking.)

The food might not have been up to the standards of my favourite restaurant, but the company was top notch.

Cappuccino in bed this morning, opening cards and parcels and going through various electronic birthday messages, including one from River – almost unrecognisable without the ball in her mouth – in Wales.

(So far no birthday greeting from Georgie, which is a bit disappointing.)

Sometimes it’s good to remind myself that I am a lucky lady.

Now, off to check the post box and to buy some fucking prosecco.

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