Counting blessings

Counting several things actually. Days of Living Healthily: TWENTY-SIX. Days till my birthday: ONE. (Actually, less than that, in fact about 34 minutes as I type, but ONE is what I felt when I woke up this morning). Blessings: MANY.

Monday is a rubbish day to have a birthday party. I have managed it, but only in the days when serious drugs could be consumed on a schoolnight, and as a) I am not taking drugs anymore, b) I don't have friends who are taking drugs anymore, well, not on a schoolnight, well, certainly not on a Monday, and c) I am not consuming *anything* of interest at the moment, I decided it was a disastrous idea to try. Everyone would be glued to Enders or at yoga or something.

So I decided to have it today instead, and then I came up with the splendid idea of having it at the Waterman's Arms, and then Miles came up with the double splendid idea of having it at lunchtime.

You think that the web has got something about everything, yet nowhere is there a mention of Sunday lunch at the Waterman's Arms, or even much about it at all. Yet it is my favourite pub in all the world. It squeezed fourteen of us in, and Jen provided birthday balloons and banners and a little chocolate log with a candle in it. I was bursting with happiness.

A lot has happened since I last had a birthday on a Monday. I live somewhere else, work somewhere else, love someone else. And while I still have friendships which go back at least two birthdays-on-Mondays, I did seem to go through a phase of shedding them not long after last birthday-on-Monday. This was a source of great pain to me at the time, but if it hadn't happened then today wouldn't have happened, because I wouldn't have met most of the people who were there. And while a wildly diverse bunch in themselves, they all know who I am, I think. How lucky am I.

Oh! It's really my birthday now! And my first present of the day is a little piece of kit which means I can plug the TV in in my room when something needs videoing, rather than having to video it in S's room then carry it all upstairs to watch in mine. This does make sense, but only if you understand the television dynamics in our household. Won't go into them here.

And so to bed.

joella