Happy Birthday to me,
Happy Birthday dear mee-eee,
Happy Birthday to me.
So, what have I got. *Rummages through pile* Ah! An execution. How thoughtful. Wrong person though, which means there's still time to sort out him and her.
Some spending money for Morocco
Some underwear. Thanks Mum. Well, I'm 46 these things are important.
A new chin
A knighthood for this man. Means I now have to go back and re-re-edit Tony's book because Tony was once the double bassist in his quintet, albeit a very early incarnation thereof. Sir George's favourite wartime breakfast was porridge and pickles. I could go for that.
I haven't as yet received anything traditionally smutty from my best friend. Although I'm hoping.
I'm off to tone this wreck of a body with some hard physical work in the garden. Got to keep fit and firm.
(I've had this banging around in my head for two days now. Can I make it go away now and have this instead?)