I'd just like to wish Happy Birthday to Diane Keen and Andi Peters. Many happy returns. Though I doubt they've received a gift wrapped fire extinguisher training certificate, so they can't possibly be having as good a day as me.

With the patience of a 5 year old at Christmas, Lisa insisted I open her presents at 1:00am last night. It would have been sooner, but she didn't finish wrapping them up til 12:55am. It was worth the wait however, as I received the formerly mentioned framed fire extinguisher certificate to hang on my wall as a constant reminder that Lisa has managed to pass something in her life. (Or at least I thought so - she later informed me that she doesn't think it's actually possible to fail the fire extinguisher training. If it was, she would have done, after managing to spray the instructor).

In addition, Lisa's generosity stretched to a paperweight, a cordless phone to enable me to go to the bathroom while I'm speaking to her, and a Terry Hall CD, in a shameless attempt to convert me to mid 80s music. Her efforts to convince me basically consisted of her stating that the man is a genius and she'd happily have his babies. Personally I'm unconvinced. On both scores.

But with perfect timing, our tickets for The Human League arrived in this morning's post, so she's not giving up yet.

In addition I received five cards with cats on, two cards with penguins, and one from my friend (I use the word loosely) Marie, which stated that "the most common cake for people your age is backache", to which she'd added "It's funny because it's true".

I'm also in possession of a pink pig cake (I'm only 31, it's allowed), so thank god my sister's in America.

But I'm holding out for my main delivery of gifts at the weekend when I force my family to gather in celebration of my birthday (two days late). That's assuming Lisa and I make it. We were actually planning a birthday activity yesterday evening, but having 'popped in' to Pizza Hut at Brighton Marina for a quick bite to eat first, we didn't 'pop out' again for two and a half hours, so that was the end of those plans. Personally I was drowning my sorrows, having announced the previous night that Soviet Song would win the 3:15 at Goodwood, and not getting around to putting a bet on before I left for Brighton. Naturally she romped to victory.

But in a spooky coincidence, it's also mine and Lisa's two month anniversary today, so we may force ourselves outdoors this evening for some kind of joint celebratory event. We have the added incentive of an e-mail which I received from Mick Kitson this afternoon, with a serious offer to reform The Senators and play at our wedding if we ever get married.

We'd never marry out of love, but with the firm offer of a live Senators gig on the table, we'll be straight down the town hall in the morning for a license.