It is my birthday today. I was up at 7am, with the sound of crows and parrots in my ears, from the trees in the garden. 7am on a Saturday morning, is this the way it is going to be from now on? So at 45 years old, is this where the moaning gene kicks in, and all I talk about is the weather, lack of parking spaces at the post office, and arguing about who puts the recycling bin out? I am scared though. Do I get taken over by alien beings that bring me brown, plastic, slip on shoes, and zip up jumpers, with the pictures of mountains and skiers across the front, and I get the ring and ride bus to the bingo, and hope that I get a winning line for a packet of lamb chops? I thought I found a varicose vein on my lower leg, this morning, but it was just a piece of chewed Bombay mix, well that is what it tasted like. But I will enjoy my 45th today, and then we’ll see what happens in the morning, after too much lager and smelly vindaloo breath. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, BREAD AND BUTTER IN THE GUTTER, AND YOU SMELL JUST LIKE PEE. CHEEEEEEEEEEERS X
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