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Wednesday, August 25, 2004

It's Lisa's birthday! Hurrah!


Obviously I can't reveal how old she is - there may be people of a nervous disposition reading this, and the shock could be too much for them. But she's wearing well for someone of her age.

I started the day by generously offering to make the birthday girl breakfast in bed. She requested one slice of cheese on toast, which increased to one and a half slices after I told her it's her birthday and she's legally obliged to pig out. Ten minutes later she changed her mind, ordered a bacon sandwich, decided she didn't trust me to make it, and got me a cup of tea while I read the paper. So that worked out well.

I also presented her with some silver earrings, a present she guessed a week ago, after I was forced to give her more clues than the Times crossword, and reveal most of the letters. Even then it was touch and go for a while (she was still stumped when I told her this gift is so small she might have to keep it in her earring box - a bit of reverse psychology which threw her off the scent for a good three or four days).

In addition I saw fit to buy Lisa an omelette pan, as she's developed a fixation with the notion of the perfect omelette (I know, I don't think it's normal either), and feels her life will be complete if she can just learn to make one successfully. Having read an old school report from her Home Economics teacher (I don't think they're allowed to make such negative comments these days), you have to question how likely she is to achieve her goals, but hey, she's (much) older now, and no doubt wiser, so I'm sure she can do it. By the end of the week I'll be sick of the sight of omelettes.

Anyhoo, we only have a couple of hours before we achieve riches beyond our wildest dreams. Yes, that's right, we're going dog racing this afternoon. But not only that, I've generously spent a pound of my hard earned money to buy Lisa a lottery ticket made up of numbers relating to her birthday, and Mystic Meg in today's Sun is confident of a lucky day for Virgos (and people wearing purple), so frankly we can't lose.

Blimey, we're leaving in 45 minutes. Something tells me I should get dressed.