I staggered out of bed this morning to be greeted by a drizzly Saturday and have been faffing about (great word that, faffing) instead braving the elements and getting out to do the list of things I need to do. This is also known as re-prioritising and is a very useful skill to have here in the UK, saving hours of damp trudging and allowing one to enjoy the soothing sound of the rain from a dry and comfortable vantage point at the front window. But I digress.
My faffing meant that I was home when the postman arrived. Nothing exciting really comes through the mailslot: just the usual assortment of bills to pay, flyers advertising things I could never imagine needing and To The Homeowner letters from local estate agents wishing to sell my little flat from underneath me. But today was different. As I whipped around, startled by the metallic clunk of the mail flap, I saw a flash of girly colour.
‘Pink!’, my little heart cried. ‘Could it be…my first birthday card?’
And so it was.
Itinerant Father and Erstwhile Wife have won the Birthday Derby again, and although 2 days later than last year’s stirling effort, getting in with 16 sleeps to go can only be vigorously applauded. (Sounds of wild cheering and me doing a little ‘Hooray it’s my birthday soon’ dance around my postage-stamp-sized lounge room).
The card (we are allowed to open birthday cards pre-special-day in the Hamer clan) is a testament to their continued concern about my welfare in a faraway land and featured some handy hints for me to consider in my advancing years:
Well, don’t mind if I do! And I have 16 days to plan how…
Dad & Bev, thanks for the birthday tip and the lovely wishes.
ps…for a little more detail on the Birthday Rules according to the Hamer clan, click here…my sister sums it up so succinctly in her comment!