Sixty

You have to live with us to know how hopeless we are at social organisation. We change our plans, end up running late, have arguments over where we were or weren’t supposed to meet, lose each other, spend ages agreeing what to eat, have Brexit style negotiations about who goes back to feed the cats, then all end up at home at slightly different times with strange stories about how we got waylaid. I love it and so it was today. If you needed proof that a birthday changes nothing and that life in a normally dysfunctional family goes on according to its own emotional tide tables, irrespective of your view of the world, this was it.

I had some wicked presents of course. You could say they reflect my diverse interests in life. They included a pneumatic brad nailer, a set of dice for making random Haiku, a vegan Egyptian waxed cotton coat, a magic pen that uses ink and digital technology, chocolate and coffee. Incredibly The Girl Racer bought not one but two six packs of local Canadian craft beers for me, which look awesome. And Alexa sang happy birthday for me.

We were going to lunch in Brighton but for all the above reasons, and more importantly the fact that we were all just enjoying sitting around the brunch table fighting over the last piece of toast and making yet more coffee, we went to London instead. The idea was to show K the sights as it was his first trip to England but that was just an excuse for doing a favourite walk in a favourite city.

We kicked off on The South Bank with cocktails in Skylon. Totally inappropriately of course; everyone in there is power dressed or chic and between us we had t shirts, shorts, backpacks, jeans, casual dresses and baseball caps on. I took out Southbank Centre membership so I could get 20% off the bill and we held negotiations with the waiter over what to drink. He invented something just for me, a mixture of bourbon, beer syrup, smoke and thyme, and said he would call it The Justin in my honour. Nonsense of course, I’m sure he says that to all the girls and boys. We did think of calling it Sixty Dix but decided that was just too risqué.

It was very windy. I took this as a sign that my life was about to change and that a new age was about to dawn. I checked the alignment of the planets and found that it was such that I had a clear view of Uranus for my birthday (see extra) which seemed appropriate given that I was later to be found washing my medication down with beer and discussing the Carry On movies (I am Sid James to TSM’s Barbara Windsor, I decided).

We stumbled on the tail end of The Changing of the Guard at Horseguards Parade, walked around St James’ park, gawked at Buckingham Palace, went back down Birdcage walk then ended up in the bowels of The Admiralty (pub, not place of maritime organisation). I say this like it happened quickly but for all the aforementioned reasons it was actually more of a disparate gaggle. Incidentally the officer in charge of The Change looked like Kylo-Ren from Star Wars: The Force Awakens. In fact I was sure it was him.

Had a call from miss B halfway ‘round who said she would be unable to make my birthday party as she had tripped over the cat and broken her hip and was in hospital. Feeble excuse. I asked how the cat was and she agreed that was the greater priority. She said she had a bottle of House of Commons Scotch for me and we agreed to meet up soon over a cuppa in South London, as we do.

I like The Admiralty. We drank in an alcove on The Gun Deck. Stayed there rather longer than intended, but it was my birthday. Then we went for a pizza just off Trafalgar Square and gorged ourselves, being dead hungry by then. Then we walked back over Hungerford Bridge to get the train home, although Strider had by now gone stomping off to WholeFoods in Piccadilly.

I was still hungry - blame the steroids - so bought chips on the way home and had a chip and pickled onion butty washed down with Canadian Maple Whisky to finish off the day. I can highly recommend the sandwich, my own creation. I am going to call it The Pickled Dix. Which was a good description of me by the time I went to fall into bed, although I was surprised with one last singing of happy birthday over a candlelit vegan cupcake by my wonderful, lovely and totally amazing family before lights out.

Amazing day. I love my life, whatever the numbers. So many great memories.

Now: here’s to the future.