Sixteen

Bloody 'ell. Sixteen.

The presents have moved on too. No toys; after shave, exercise equipment, money, a wallet for the money, a bank account to transfer the money from the wallet into... still loads of sweets though.

An afternoon session of hamster simulation/zorbing up in the hills above Stirling as a special treat for him and his big sister's boyfriend. I got all nostalgic when, echoing this same day sixteen years ago, he squeezed, all arms and legs, from that small aperture in the zorbing ball. Probably.

Looked like, and definitely sounded like, they both had a blast experiencing what a pair of socks feel like in a washing machine spin cycle.

Home after that to plaster embarrassing photos spanning these past sixteen years all over the place and now all about to head out for a celebratory meal to help fill his hollow legs. If that doesn't do it, there's a monster chocolate cake to follow that surely will.

Happy Birthday Slug!