Birthday day finally arrived with plans of a long lie in and breakfast in bed. Unfortunately we were both flummoxed by the clocks going back so woke wide awake at 8 o’clock in the morning. Once awake there was no stopping Ian. Just like a little kid he was practically bouncing with excitement.
His parents couldn’t be with us, but had left him a secret stash of presents – which ended up being not so secret as I wasn’t tall enough to hide them on top of the book case. I had to ask for Ian’s help with that, the eternal curse of the short.
We unwrap gifts very differently. I carefully un-knot ribbons and un stick tape in order to save and reuse. Ian? He rips into wrapping with glee!
All in all I think he was pretty chuffed with his haul. 211 things a bright boy can do from his parents, In search of Elvis from me (we’re both big Charlie Connelly fans – you simply must read Attention All Shipping!) a new school (work) shirt from his parents and a jumble of sweets. He may have been turning 25, but you would have thought that he was 5 all over again.
We then had some chores to do as I had invited a small group of friends over for evening drinks in celebration. We popped along to our local farmers market in Blackheath and picked up some veggies and bread whilst Ian had a birthday Ultra Chocolate Brownie to celebrate and I had a couple of cheese straws in the pouring rain.
Then back home to tidy and clean. Unfortunately I started to flap. I am ridiculously house proud and would hate for anyone to think that we live in a tip, but with Wedding and Honeymoon planning going on, we have sheets of paper all over the place. I couldn’t take it any more and gathering them all up, stuffed them into a cupboard. My equivalent of sweeping under the carpet.
Eventually we decided that after our disorganisation earlier in the morning, we really should wash and scrub up before our ‘party’. It was only when I was sat on the bed, rollers in my hair still wrapped in a towel that I heard the clatter and clashing from the bathroom. I dashed out of the bedroom – pulling the hairdryer out of the socket in the process (I hadn’t realised it was still sat on my lap) leaving the room in devastation.
I barged into the bathroom to find Ian in a combination of giggles and gasps on the floor. Evidently he had had a brain / body failure of communication. Whilst his brain had said ‘lets step out of the bath’ his body had said ‘bath? What bath? I think I’ll just walk straight out of here…’
Now it could be said of Ian that he is a bit of a hypochondriac. Ok, he is a lot of a hypochondriac. Once I realised he hadn’t drowned or was loosing blood, I’m afraid my sympathy ended there. With a swift, ‘oh you’ll walk it off’ I went back to drying my hair.
Turns out that he its fairly likely that he broke his little toe. It went purple, and then black. I felt pretty bad about that.
But there was a party to be had, and Ian ever the drama queen, the show must go on!
During the evening a close friend who happens to be a doctor telephoned, one swift phone consultation later…yup it’s a broken toe, though nothing can be done about it really, just strap it up and take a few pain killers! (At least I had been proved right on that front).
Thank goodness birthdays only come round once a year. This one has just worn me out. So much so, I went to bed at 9 o’clock on Monday night and it has taken me a further three days to even turn on the computer.