it's the last day of being 42

and 43 sounds a bit old and past it.

So to 'celebrate' the birthday tomorrow, we've just had a day of eating too much cake, being juvenile and scaring the younger members of staff. Perfect working day, really! But we got the work done and didn't scare the visitors, so no one can complain. Well, not unless they want to wear the remains of the tiramisu... and who would be to blame for throwing it? I'm not the only Tiswas fan in the office.

I've been really good about not opening my presents so far. Mostly because they've been thoughtfully wrapped so's I can guess the contents. Thanks to Sophie & Scott, and Anita, I may have to start drinking around 10am tomorrow. Seems a bit early to get out of bed on my birthday though, so maybe it can wait til lunchtime. My family have refused point-blank to hand over anything until tomorrow evening. I have a reputation for being totally unable to resist opening stuff early, that they won't let me live down.

Don't they know I'm older and wiser ;)

e-mail etiquette

This is one reason why you shouldn't open up personal e-mails at work.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/6234290.stm

DNA testing sporrans at football matches?? Tsk tsk. Had to show it to the colleagues, they could hear the stifled hysterical laughter and none of our courses are that funny. So I had to come clean.

Another daft thing to do is to open family e-mail, discover a really interesting web address (http://www.ihrivieramaya.com/) and spend 15 mins showing photos to your boss because you are ssoooooooooooo excited about someone else's holiday. But the baby niece is off to Mexico, and I just had to do the dutiful auntie thing and check the venue out.

Intense Spanish and Diving? So proud that she chose the frankly insane option instead of learning to cook or dance.

Today I don't feel constructive or useful or any of those good team qualities we are supposed to have. I'm feeling old, stroppy, jealous and bored. Still, when I'm in this mood, I don't argue about my turn to put lunch out or change water bottles. I seek out the mundane stuff, because quite frankly the polite customer service stuff ain't never gonna happen!

Must dash, got to search for a trunk big enough to ship me out to Playa del Carmen, try to get a week in before the Spanish trip!

bit of a catch-up

Our racing pigeon has now been caught, sent home and is recovering in the coop with a copy of the AA guide to Great Britain.

Stop that Pigeon!

We're having fun with the winged critters at the moment.

A knackered racing pigeon took refuge on my neighbour's roof last week. Despite the best advice from the racing websites, Lily is feeding it like some wayward pet. If you just give them enough food and water to recover, they fly home. But Lily has been doting on it, and it is showing no sign of leaving. Lily is 86, never loses an argument, and knows everything in the world ever - if she says it needs a fuss from a complete stranger who knows bugger-all about pigeons, then that is what it will get.

Some poor sod released a racing pigeon - they'll have to bring a big van to collect the racing turkey, at this rate! All attempts at catching the little blighter have failed miserably and I don't really want to send the cats round to sort it. Lily is calling my Mum at some strange times because Rosie is good with critters. Mum gets this hunted look now, when the phone rings.

Where are Dastardly and Muttley when you need them? Mind you, I seem to recall they didn't get their pigeon either. Lily is enjoying all the fuss too. She has 3 fine strapping lads, and grandkids galore - but they're never around to do this sort of thing, or tidy her garden or take her down to the shops. Their speciality is the big showboat gesture. If the owner decided to leave the racing turkey behind with her, the kids would turn up with a gold-plated coop (or something equally daft) but would never dream of mucking it out.

Ron (next door) has christened it Walter, I've nicknamed it Mr Duckworth, and the cats are calling it next week's lunch...

anniversary time

There seems to be a lot of this around at the moment, so here goes.

Yes, I do remember the first UK realease of 'Star Wars', queued round the block with my Mum and it was ruined by the idiot in front smoking a cigar. It looked so much better second time round, without the fog.

Yes, I do remember the Sex Pistols and the fuss about 'God Save the Queen'. Been watching them on Tony Wilson's 'So It Goes' for a while. But with all the will (and hair gel) in the world, waist length hair won't stay in a mohican for long - and I bloody well wasn't going to cut it!

TISWAS! I was definitely a Magpie and Tiswas kid. Although I knew I'd never grow up to be as fit as Sally James, I still dream that one day I will be able to throw a mean custard pie and walk in heels that high.

And two sadder ones.

The Falklands. Aged 17, watching the news. Meeting the 1st Great Love of My Life at this time. In retrospect, should have realised that, when he didn't appear to bother with current affairs, he was not the one for me. Very bright lad, but computer-and-self obsessed. But he was quite fit for a geek (!) and I didn't fancy him for his computing skills! It says a LOT for Scott and Jill that I became friends with them despite their computing backgrounds! My tekkie-phobia has deep and dark roots :)

Tony Blair as PM. So ding, dong the Tory witches were dead, I finally saw a Labour parliament voted in, and let the good times roll! I watched the election at my friend Eleanor's house, dog-sitting while she was on holiday. She died 10 years ago this week, and I still think of her. Would have been a much better world if we'd had Eleanor for 10 years instead...

i feel so organised...

The big trip to Spain is now finally planned. Cat-sitter booked, big sister doing security (and she is FIERCE; set my burglar alarm off at your peril!), Gromit off for a nice week at a canine holiday camp. I decided against Alcatraz for him, he didn't mean to bite the postman, it just looked like postie was hiding behind the wheelie-bin and Gromit is an easy dog to confuse...

I have flights, accommodation and know what I'm packing. Keep looking at the Lilypie ticker and counting off the days. In Spain, Jay and Angie are trying to be calm but the thought of never having a decent night's sleep EVER has got to them; and they live near a very noisy Irish bar, so they are used to noise. I'm planning to head for that bar whenever there's a nappy to be changed. Very churlish to go all that way and not toast the child!

canadian grand prix, june 07

I know all the arguments against Grand Prix. It's obscenely expensive, bad for the environment and normally dull as ditchwater.

But at least in the Canadian Grand Prix you get a bit of action! Four jolly jaunts out for the safety car! More people whacking into the Wall of Champions! Or should that be the Wall of Dented Egos? Discuss, while sending get well vibes to young Kubica and his broken leg.

And Lewis Hamilton won :)

One of the ex-Reservoir Mogs, Kingsbridge, was really good at recognising which engines were about to blow up. He would sit near the tv, purring at everything but if his ears went back and he snarled, something would be off in heap in the next 30 seconds. Had an excellent success rate, but we never found a way to make him profitable. Should've taken him to Ron Dennis and offered to save him a fortune...

i've learnt to avoid hens...

I like to think I can multi-task. But maybe choosing to check the bank account online, while eating and trying to watch Dr Who was a step too far. I heard some line that sounded like " can boil an egg at 30 paces...whether you want to or not... i've learned to avoid hens..." and nearly fell off the chair laughing! By the time I stopped giggling and calmed the dog down (he joins in mad moments by barking like a lunatic and wouldn't shut up) I remembered to check the bank details. It appears that my bank has lost the flight and accommodation money I deposited this morning :( Hopefully it will show up soon, or I'm travelling to Spain hidden in the boot of a friend's car. Nice to have a Plan B.

At least the accommodation is sorted. I'm staying with the ratbag nephew, his girlfriend and their baby son, he's due 8th July and is the subject of the Lilypie ticker on the front page. I'm only going f0r his birth; then I'll try to avoid him until he can take me to the pub! I'm not good with children.

Horrifying thought - he'll only be 17 at my 6oth do. Hopefully he'll look a lot older than his years. I expect I will.

And the mogs are sorted too. My mum has a friend called Angela, who runs a petminding service. She lives too far out for the Reservoir Mogs (Southern Chapter) but has agreed to look after my lot as she's 10 minutes away. Last year I was lucky enough to be in Cornwall when the basking sharks were off the south coast, and she looked after the cats then. On the first few days back, the cats would all troop off and wait at the gate at the time she usually arrived. The message was clear; we were back but they liked her. If they waited long enough she would come back. That is the best sort of reference, total customer satisfaction! The mad woman has signed up for a second go, and I'm delighted.

Gromit is going to a local kennel, recommended by a friend. So we just need to organise the 2-legged family members and we are ready to go.

what they did on their holidays

While I was enjoying the company of the Reservoir Mogs (Southern Chapter), here's what Sophie and Scott were doing!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/delishusdemon/sets/72157600315338321/

And thanks for the pressies :)

time to get planning

I will admit I'm one of the world's worst planners. In the next 4 weeks I have go overseas to meet the great-nephew and catch up with his not-so-great parents(!). This means finding somewhere that will take the pesky mogs and the dog for 8 days or so. We all found out about the baby months ago, so I have no excuse.

So now I'm trawling through the local kennels, and suddenly sympathetic to the friends who were so frantic when trying to find a decent nursery. The Reservoir Mogs might be little sods, but they are my little sods and I want them to be fairly happy and comfortable. I'd prefer to keep them all in proper confinement, although the cats were quite good for the last house-sitter. But this time they would have to put up with the dog, who is a vandal if not controlled 24/7 , so I'm looking for a place as plush as the Hilton and as secure as Alcatraz. More caffeine, now!

Shove over Fatboy McCrirrick...

I've backed my first Derby winner, ah bless! The winnings won't break the bookies, but I'm chuffed. It's the principle of the thing. Normally I look at the results and think how obvious that one would win... but I don't think I'll be setting up an account with Ladbrokes just yet.

I like the people who bet on the most bizarre things, then rock up years later to claim their winnings and enjoy their 5 mins on local telly. You may have noticed the Lilypie ticker at the bottom of the page - my first great-nephew is due to make an appearance early July. So tempting to bet he'll score a hat-trick at Wembley before his 18th birthday! This is working on the principle that I lose more than I win, so he'll end up off in the real world, doing something useful.