It's my birthday today and in my family it's a small tradition that we phone each other and sing Happy Birthday to one another down the phone, regardless of where any of us are at the time.
In the past I've sung it on the hands free in the car, from the office, on the London Eye and even once in Tesco's.
Today I only got it sung to me 3 times (there are six branches in my family), and one of those was an abridged version. I felt more than a little cheated at first, but am now leaning towards being gracious - mainly because I have £60 more than I did yesterday as a direct result of opening all the Birthday cards. Song Shmong I say.
It wasn't the most vibrant of birthdays. The lack of singing aside, I'd be lying if I ever suggested that the day I turned 26 was one of my more exciting days. I missed breakfast opening my cards, I spent the whole day alone in the office with only last.fm for company (Turkish music today) and had cell group in the evening...Paris Hilton I am not.
My main birthday present from my parents is quite an interesting one, unless you're a vegetarian. I'm going with my dad to a butchery masterclass next wednesday at Allens butchers in Mayfair.
For a not unsubstantial fee, we will be shown how to prepare 4 cuts of meat from various animals / birds and then we will do it ourselves and then take home the meats of our labour.
The knives we will use are so sharp that we have to wear a chainmail glove on our non-knife hand, lest we slip and chop of a finger. That got me thinking, maybe I will start wearing one glove more often. If it's good enough for Tiger Woods, Michael Jackson and Abu Hamza, then surely it's good enough for me?
On an entirey different note, my daughter has finally started to crawl forwards now, aged 10 months. Whilst this proves more of a challenge for my wife Emma (who now has to stop the baby from eating all the things I leave on the floor), for me it is a great relief as I was worried that there might be a reason she had only ever crawled backwards in a circle...and that the reason might have been me making her do the Swanton Bomb* too many times.
Now she's crawling in the right direction, I can take it as read that it's safe for me to continue with her (secret) wrestling education. Next week: The People's Elbow.
I had a look on-line today to see if my local MP has claimed for any outrageous expenses in the last 4 years that the Telegraph might have missed. I actually thought this might be my entry into journalism, but after 12 minutes I was so bored of looking at receipts for British Gas, taxi fares and stationery supplies that I abandoned my new dream and decided to spend the remainder of my lunch break drawing a sketch of Rey Mysterio (a WWE superstar) doing the 619 (his finishing manouevre) on a Donor Kebab.
Yes, a donor kebab. Who knows why, it's possible I was dehydrated at the time.
I will endeavour to scan the picture and attach it here as soon as I can.
Peace, grease and John Cleese.
*a wrestling move where the wrestler initiates a summersault from height and lands on his/her back, on top of their grounded opponent (search Jeff Hardy on Youtube for a visualisation)
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