Cake and card selection. Guess where the Fart one came from- he's 10 what do you expect?
Birthday Week is all about the food! and of course a few beers!
As we get older it gets harder and harder to dream up really cool birthday pressies, although it wouldn't be the same if there were no parcels to unwrap as tea is slurped and sleep is rubbed from eye balls.
The birthday Week started on Tuesday with a Brisvegas visit and much hilarity at Belly's and then dinner at a prospective new golf club in case we actually ever do sell the Big House and move on up. The course looked pretty and the food was tastey and He won a game of Monopoly cards so all was well with the world. The beer in the bin behind the bar was a hit.
Wednesday no golf cos the sky gods were pissy and pissing so the cake surprise was no surprise but He did enjoy the day long smell of the cooking. Yummo! BBQ steaks were very fine.
Thursday was the Big Day. Pressies were ripped and then off to the village for a group serenade of 'Happy Birthday' - 'how embarrassment!'
Dibley getting used to the Birthday Monkeys from Bell and Zig
Still fucking raining so no chance of an afternoon hit out. But off to dinner at the new Italian restaurant at the Casino. Well that was damn fine. Perhaps the best meatballs we have ever eaten, and then a surprise Birthday cloud making pudding of chocolate and more chocolate. It reminded me of the frozen Tartufos my darling Dad always ordered when we went off for a seafood dinner. These things were so bloody frozen that we'd play chasey around the plate. We could have left 'em sit and defrost a little but where would the fun have been in that? Anyway it was very generous. We both dug in and I was sorry later. Ho Hum.
Those squiggles on the plate that look like turds or sperm were really balloons.
Then off to the Casino with a little 'Pin Money' cos I know He likes a bit of Roulette. People shoving and spending huge hands full of cash and it wasn't even the Boxing Day sales. We had a look around and it seems to me that the tables are slowly being replaced by those bloody machines which just sit and slurp up your money. We found a table that was almost accessible even if it meant sliding your bets on through the faintly sweaty sides of driven blokes who never once cracked a smile, and then standing on tippy toes to see the table spin. We laughed as we pissed away the pin. I am always surprised that there is so little joy at Casinos. We took ours home with us.
It's still raining here today, so no golf again. Yummy meals are sorted for the holiday / birthday
weekend and then off to enjoy Ross Noble on Sunday.
So not a week yet, but it's all going well. I reckon He might be happy enough to look forward to another one next year, after all a birthday celebration has gotta be better than the alternative.