I put a spell on you...

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Today is my birthday.

Fifty four years old.  At least I think I am.  You do get to an age where it just doesn't matter any more unless it has a zero on the end.  These birthdays are always good times to celebrate that you are still going strong and serve well as reminders that birthday cards are still welcome and appropriate.

In my family, I am Queen of the Birthday Plans.  By this, I mean my immediate family, as anything beyond my children and the husband is taken up by Miss R, whose organisational skills make mine look almost infantile.  So when it comes to my birthday, I have to temporarily hand the mantle of Birthday Planner to the husband.

But I can't really leave it all to him...

I have prompted him that a meal out might be lovely with whichever children are in the vicinity, and family members who are happy to be awake past 10.00pm.  (This is difficult because my birthday is always very close to that damn daylight saving nonsense).  I have also suggested where I would like to go, having chosen a place furthest away from us, but closer to everyone else, in the hope that my birthday dinner won't just be the husband and me.  

I can just imagine him singing to me as I blow the candle out on a hurriedly prepared 'special' birthday pudding.  You know the ones which the restaurant kitchens are asked to make last minute.  A sparkler and a pink paper flamingo decoration do not a birthday make, that's for sure.  I always picture the chef rummaging through his odds and sods drawer looking for a candle, finally finding one which has only been used twice already, and sticking that on top of a scoop of raspberry ripple, a squirt of strawberry sauce, and a dusting of icing sugar, and Ta-Dah!

And then there are the presents.  

Not one of my children have asked me for ideas as to what I'd like.  I'd made a list out in preparation, but this is still languishing in the top drawer of my desk, just waiting for one of the girls (never the boys) to call me and ask me what I'd like.  Even more worrying, is the fact that the husband hasn't asked me for any clues.  I have a sneaking suspicion he feels that actually coming home on Saturday is gift enough.  Foolish man...

So husband and kids, if you're reading this, and have just started to panic, here's my list:

The Rose Tree's Marshmallow and Frangipane Intensive Balm
Romance perfume
Pair of Fuchsia pink gloves
Anything schnauzer related (except another schnauzer)
Socks
A manicure (if included in a spa day, even better)

Let's see what happens, shall we...


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