Birthday & Barack

When you get to a certain age (and one should never ask a lady her age), you simply stop making a song and dance about celebrating your advancing years. This year, I haven't felt particularly in celebratory mode - working on an unfeasibly stressful HBOS shoot (haven't they gone bust yet?), struggling with a nasty, achey-breaky cold, and no-one to warm my feet on in bed at night. Grumble, grumble...

But thank the Lord for lovely friends. When the Big Day arrived, I was inundated with texts from 8am onwards, cards in the post (including two drumming lessons!!! Look out, Cozy Powell...) and an endless round of cuppas around the eateries of Crouch End with various loved ones. Then a nice evening meet-up with Smiff, Gina, Barto and Marc in the French House, where we drank lots of French bière. Finishing off with JD in the Kings, JD in the Queens, and a Pot Noodle from Somerfield. Can life get any better, I ask you???

Postscript:  a momentous week in world politics. Barack Obama became the 44th president of the United States. Not normally the type to be taken over emotionally by political events (although I was made up when Labour toppled the Tories from power in 1997), I listened to Sam Cooke sing "A Change Is Gonna Come" this week and I actually filled up. Must be me age.

Postscript 2: How long before The Sun uses "Obama-lama-ding-dong" headline if Barack has to get heavy on some dictator's ass?