I just had a good evening. Spoke on the phone to numerous family members, which is always good. Lisa had gone to town on a birthday meal – it looked good as well as tasting good – you know how food can be like art if the right colours and textures sit together? That's how it all looked on the table. And she'd decorated a cream sponge cake with writing made from halved or sliced raspberries, so I got my cake after all.
Have to confess to telling people at work about the birthday as I left – I asked if it was okay to leave a little early as I wanted to get away because we had an evening planned for my birthday. Cue dropped jaws all round – why hadn't I said anything earlier?
Well, one reason was that when I got in I saw a card by my keyboard and thought 'how the hell did they find out?'. When I got closer I saw it said 'With deepest sympathy' on the front and I thought 'you sarky bastards', but was touched and amused. Then I opened it and found it was a sympathy card for the boss, whose mother had died the night before, and had been put there for me to sign it. After that I didn't feel much like talking about my birthday.