Almost-birthday

At about three in the afternoon, I suddenly remembered that it was my birthday tomorrow. It is already in Britain, which probably makes me 22. My birthday posts seem to have a history of being confused and uninteresting, being largely baffled at how I have managed to increment my age and still make it out alive. This year is really no different.

Whitney has excitedly insisted that I open her presents tonight because it's really the 15th where I was born. It feels like cheating somehow to me, but I have agreed to open two of them - she's got me a pack of mini blackcurrant Jammie Dodgers and a tube of chocolate digestives, which I had been craving since I left Britain. She's undoubtedly the best wife I've ever had.