The birthday boy

He is just 7 and a half. 
In decades. 
And he seems rather happy. With his cards. His glass of champagne. His prawn cocktail. His turkey and roast potatoes and carrots and peas. His glass of Bordeaux. His strawberry mousse cake. And above all his glass of Royal Tokaji. 

There is a flurry of birthday celebrations around this time of the year. Pepe, 3 days ago (but celebration today), Uncle Martin - today (happy birthday Martin), Mrs Raheny's cousin Michelle, today, whom I met with the boys in Lidl, to her great horror (Michelle wouldn't be seen dead in Lidl. And especially not without any make-up on... That's a banana and bottle of low fat milk she wishes she had never bought...) Uncle Justin tomorrow. 

I had to plug the date into a calendar in reverse by 9 months to find out what the trend may be for so many babies babies. Early January, the beginning of a new year, a massive wave of optimism and a strong belief in the future. 

Or no beer and wine left from all the excesses of Christmas, no money left, shag all on TV and nothing else to do to keep warm at night...